The Edge of Hope
by thatmasquedgirl
Summary: AU: Once More Into the Breach, #1. *They say the world is coming to an end. But that's okay for Oliver because, as far as he's concerned, his ended two years ago. Or maybe, it's just beginning again.* Another way Oliver and Felicity could have met, this time involving an apocalypse, a few near-death experiences, and a whole lot of monsters. Another Pacific Rim AU. Complete.
1. Return

**Title: The Edge of Hope  
Chapter: 1 - Return  
Word Count: 6076**

 **Notes:** Brace yourselves for a long beginning note.

I cannot tell you how excited I am to start posting this. This fic has been my life for so long and I haven't been able to share it with hardly anyone for fear of spoiling it. (Once I start talking about my fic, I get excited and tell the entire plot.) The initial response I got to the concept was mostly along the lines of "that's been done before," but I'm excited, my beta was excited, and my artist is excited. :)

This is one of the most intense fics I've ever written in terms of sheer volume and intensity. In addition to that, OFBB was an entirely new experience for both my beta and I, and I think neither of us were getting into. My first concept for the Fic Bang was intense, and by the end of the first week, I had thrown a 14-page outline and a two-page language guide at her. My beta _didn't even flinch_ , diving feet first into a fic with a lot of world-building. Unfortunately, I was unable to roll with my first concept because it required a whole hell of a lot more time, energy, tears, and word count than I could manage for this. When I changed tacks, she handled it like a boss.

So, like an old movie, we're going to go credits first because these guys (well, gals, actually) deserve some major credit:

Hands down, I could _not_ have done this without leviosaphoenix on AO3 (ohmyemilybett on Tumblr), my lovely beta. Quite honestly, I feel like this is our ace love child in some ways. I pitched the idea of her beta-ing for me out of left field, and was met with the most enthusiasm I've ever seen. One of the best decisions of my life. She has done beta work for me across a tremendous time zone gap, sometimes while sick or on vacation, and almost always at 3AM. (She's also an amazing fic author and you should go read her stuff RIGHT NOW.) So thank you, my dear, for your love, support, flailing, and compulsive grammar/punctuation changes. Kim, you're the best Australian brain twin a girl could ask for.

Secondly, a shout-out to the awesome artist who chose my fic based solely on the part of the summary in asterisks, the lovely willowpelt. Not gonna lie, it's every fic writer's _dream_ to have art based on their fic. I screamed when I saw it because it's so damn pretty. LOOK AT THAT COVER, MY PEOPLE. You did an amazing job and—perhaps even more amazing—you dealt with my shit in the No-Beta Interim when Kim was on vacation. (Dark times, folks, dark times. Lots of blue text, lack of italics, and errors.) Many thanks for all of your hard work and much appreciation for your talent. You were truly a gift.

Last but certainly not least, shout-outs to Lexi (alexiablackbriar13 on AO3/Tumblr) and Twinkie (MysteriousTwinkie) for being awesomely supportive. Twink was one of the first ones who seemed enthusiastic about the idea, which made me want to continue with what I had written. And I sent Lexi Chapter 1 to read (because we're complete trash for each other's "trash" fics now, except I actually send her trash and she sends me awesomeness), and she flailed over it. Thanks for being your wonderful, charming selves.

Finally, thanks to you, my readers, for being epically awesome through these last few months. My post schedule has been crazily erratic ("Will she or won't she today?"), but you have persevered and conquered. My review replies have been twice as horrible as that, but you awesome-sauce nerds still took the time to say hey anyway. I don't deserve you.

I look forward to talking to all of you in the comments, should you have the chance to leave me some thoughts. If not, drop by my tumblr (I'm still thatmasquedgirl) and say hey—or even just take the time to read it. I get a special thrill from every hit on my fic, and you do _not_ go unnoticed.

You are all beautiful and fantastic and I love to know you are reading this. :)

* * *

Two minutes. Two minutes in the Shatterdome are all it takes for Oliver to realize that he made a horrible, disastrous mistake by returning to Starling City. He gave this life up two years ago when he lost his fourth and final partner. But yet here he is, lured back to Starling by pleas from his mother and sister. He always said he'd never come back, and it's because of them that he broke that promise to himself. He might have broken that one for them, but there is one he can't break, not even for them.

Because Oliver Queen is never getting back into a Jaeger again—not for anyone.

The specimens bother him immediately, and he stares at them while wondering why they're actually taking _parts_ of those damn Kaiju into any base they consider to be a safe place. But even more disturbing is that his mother seems to be completely relaxed with the idea of bringing parts of the nightmare monsters that have been plaguing the world back into their _homes_.

He studies the parts like a hawk, not trusting the Kaiju to stay dormant for long—even if they _are_ just pieces of one. He's learned better than to turn his back on anything Kaiju. Oliver is studying what he believes to be a brain when someone says from behind him, "Hey, be careful around that. Kaiju specimens are incredibly rare." Oliver rounds on him with raised eyebrows to find a kid who doesn't look much older than his sister, and he bites down on the urge to ask him where his parents are.

He offers a hand with a smile when Moira doesn't introduce him—probably because she doesn't remember his name. "I'm Barry Allen," the kid states as Oliver shakes his hand. "The Marshal calls me 'Dr. Allen,' but we're mostly informal around here. I'm head of the Kaiju Research team." He tilts his head toward another boy who looks even younger, one wearing a grungy red hoodie and looking as though he hasn't even completed high school. "That's Roy Harper. He's one of my best assistants."

Oliver is completely distracted by the conversation because, when the boy pushes the sleeves of his hoodie over his elbows, he exposes sleeves of tattoos up his arms. Normally it wouldn't bother Oliver, but it's the subject material: the kid is proudly displaying _Kaiju_ on his arms. Unable to stop himself, he asks, "Is that Yamarashi?"

"Yeah," Harper replies with a partial smile, looking almost impressed by that knowledge. "He was one of the biggest Category Threes ever—twenty-five hundred tons." Then he shrugs in dismissal. "One of the old Mark Two Jaegers they decommissioned took him down a few years back."

"Deathstroke was the name of the Jaeger," Oliver adds automatically, and Harper stares blankly at him. "I took him down in 2009. He was kill number five for Deathstroke." Then he says to both of them, probably unnecessarily, "I'm Oliver Queen."

Harper scoffs, and Oliver thinks he's really starting to dislike the kid. "Another Jaeger pilot coming in?" he says, sounding incredulous. He shakes his head before commenting to Barry in a dry voice, "What do you wanna bet that a certain someone is already in the Marshal's office raising hell?"

The conversation fades into the background as Moira turns to Oliver with a warm smile. "I'm sure Thea can show you around a little later, but for the moment, we need to speak to the Marshal." The concern with that he feels must cross his face because she continues, "Marshal Lance resigned some years back because we were running out of Jaeger pilots. He felt his place was in the field." That surprises Oliver; Lance had seemed less inclined to get back in a Jaeger than Oliver is. "John Diggle is Marshal now. You might recognize the name—he and his brother were pilots on Gipsy Danger."

"That's one of the old Mark Twos," Oliver realizes aloud. It was before his time as a pilot, of course, but how could he forget _Gipsy Danger?_ He didn't get the honor of running a mission with them before Andrew Diggle's death, but he knew it from the days when his father co-captained Queen's Gambit with Malcolm Merlyn lifetimes ago. "Gipsy Danger was one of the best."

The elevator stops abruptly, and Oliver follows his mother out of the elevator. She looks even more out of place in the warn, battered building, especially in her immaculate black suit and skirt, with the emblem of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps shining on her lapel. Several people stop to stare—some at Moira, some at Oliver, and some at the both of them—but fortunately, he doesn't recognize any of the faces. He's had to face some demons by coming back here anyway; the last thing he wants to do is reunite with people who will bring those demons to the surface.

Inevitably, he does. Because he knows the Jaegers in the hangar they pass through—hell, he's fought side-by-side with several of them. The bulky, navy robot is one he recognizes as the old Mark One Romeo Blue, the one that Lance and Hilton are apparently running again. The second one makes his stomach drop because the black Mark Four masterpiece in front of him is the Black Canary, which immediately makes him realize that its pilots must be here somewhere.

Next to it is the three-armed Crimson Typhoon, the revolutionary Mark Four that was beside Slade and him when they took down Yamarashi. He doesn't recognize the fourth, and he only assumes that must be the new Mark Five they're talking about, the one that brought him here. Striker Eureka is silver and shining, without chipped paint like the others, and it feels odd to him. Striker hasn't been tested yet, and it doesn't know war. But the fifth in the hangar, the emerald Mark Four, knows war all too well. Oliver stops breathing when he lays eyes on it—and the flurry of workers attempting to restore it.

The Green Arrow has returned home.

It's not a beautiful piece of machinery by any means. In fact, Oliver would say it's the most broken of all the other Jaegers in the hangar. If Striker Eureka is an oddity with its newness—like a recently built house that hasn't been lived in yet—then the Green Arrow is its opposite: battered and dented, much of the paint chipped away. But despite its scars, Oliver can't help but be hit with a touch of pride and affection as he looks upon the last of his surviving Jagers.

It seems fitting to him that the Arrow was his last; it was the first Jaeger that was truly his and he knew from his first mission that there would never be another to compare. Sure, he piloted the Queen's Gambit with his father, but it was a hand-me-down Mark One, a museum piece by the time he made his first neural link at the age of twenty-two. The Gambit was his father's, the one he'd shared with Malcolm Merlyn for years before the other man had been declared unfit due to radiation poisoning. (Fortunately, J-Tech had fixed that feature before Oliver ever stepped foot in a Jaeger.)

Deathstroke had been a wholly other experience, but it wasn't his, either. The Mark Two was completely other from the Gambit, smooth and violent with close-range weapons. Slade's war machine had been a remnant of his partnership with Billy Wintergreen, who had been declared unfit because of mental illness relating to the neural link. Oliver and Slade had done well together, until the Australian had fallen out of the neural link because of his own difficulties.

Oliver had been so determined to make a name for himself—to be one of those Jaeger pilot rockstars like his father—that he'd leapt at the chance to salvage an old ARGUS Mark Three war machine, the notorious Alpha Omega. Men had been dying in it for years because of the unstable biochemical and radiation-based weapons of the rig, but he hadn't cared. Maseo Yamashiro, the only other surviving pilot, had been more than willing to go back into the field with it, but it was a mistake. The gas leak on one of the weapons had spelled his end, while Oliver had been ripped from the control station to wash up on the shore of a Chinese island the next morning. His left knee has never been the same since, but at least he lived—which was more than what he could say for Maseo.

But Oliver and Tommy had been unstoppable with the Green Arrow.

Thirty-six Kaiju kills. Another fifteen assists. Every one of them successful—even the mission where he lost Tommy, Oliver had been able to finish what they started by himself. There had been damage in the past, but never any injuries to the pilots. The Green Arrow had been designed with the two of them in mind because of the story behind it that the press had fallen in love with: a second generation of the Queen and Merlyn duo that had been so famous. With the other three Jaegers Oliver had driven out of commission for various reasons, they had needed a new one and the Arrow had been everything they'd hoped for and more. At least, it _had_ been, until Knifehead had come out of the rift in 2013.

He hasn't even realized he stopped to stare until Moira's hand drops on his shoulder. "You don't have to be concerned, Oliver," she assures him. "The Green Arrow is retired now, but we felt it was only right to restore it, should the need for it arise." Oliver can read between the lines; his mother has every intention of coaxing him back into a Jaeger at some point. Despite that, he has no intention of crawling into a Jaeger ever again. "If nothing else, it will honor the sacrifice Tommy made that day."

He ignores her because the pain is still too deep, even two years after losing him. They don't understand what it was like. Oliver has lost partners before—both his father and Maseo had died on missions and Slade could never link right with him again after Shado—but it was _nothing_ compared to the pain of losing Tommy in the middle of a neural link. When Tommy had died, their minds had been linked, had been in perfect unison with one another. So, when Tommy died, Oliver died with him, felt the life leave him as he was stuck in a three thousand ton piece of machinery before piloting it back to shore by himself and an empty neural link where there should have been one. No one he's ever met has understood because pilots usually go down together; very few have outlived their partner in a neural link.

Instead of answering, he points to the silver, shiny Jaeger that needs to be tested. "Is that Striker Eureka?" he asks his mother. He tries not to let his features morph into distaste, but a new Jaeger is just a hunk of metal to him. Jaegers don't mean anything until they've been in an attack. "That's the new Mark Five model, right? Do you have pilots selected for this?"

She seems to know the subject change for what it is, but Moira humors him anyway. "We have several sets of potential pilots who are more than willing, but the decision of who pilots Striker Eureka is ultimately up to you, Oliver," she answers. "That's why Marshal Diggle wanted you here. You're the only Jaeger pilot in the world who has piloted all the classifications before and you know more about the connection that makes a powerful neural link because you've had four successful runs. And you're one of only two pilots who have ever run a successful solo mission." She studies him, a hint of pride washing over her features that he feels is undeserved. "If anyone can train Striker Eureka's pilots, it's you."

Unable to say anything, he simply pushes past her, heading in the direction she had started in before he'd been surprised by the Arrow. She catches up quickly enough and takes the lead again, but the point was clearly made because she doesn't try to bring the subject up again. In fact, all is quiet until they reach the the office with John Diggle's name on it.

His office, however, isn't nearly as quiet; the shouting is clearly discernible through the reinforced metal doors. "…don't know is that this _cannot_ happen!" a male voice booms. "Do you know how hard it is to find two Drift-compatible partners? There's a reason most of them are related—it takes almost ninety percent compatibility to make the handshake work! Non-related, opposite gender pilots are _impossible_. To find another woman who would work with you is—"

A very feminine yet furious voice cuts him off, her words just as loud, if not louder. "Don't lecture me about the Drift program!" she snaps back. "I was _on_ the original Drift team!" Oliver blinks twice; the first Drift experiments started ten years ago, and her voice is a little… _young_ to suggest she was old enough for that. "I'm part of the reason that pilots _can_ Drift! You've _seen_ my simulator records—you know I could be good if you'd just let me _out_ there! I've already talked to Laurel and McKenna. They're game. And Sara—she says she—"

"The Lance sisters can't even Drift with each _other_ , let alone someone they barely know," the man Oliver can only assume to be the Marshal cuts in. It's a knife to the gut, but one that Oliver deserves. The reason the Lances can't keep a neural link together anymore is entirely his fault. "I've seen your combat trials with both of them. You and Laurel do all right, but she's better with Helena. Even so, they're not as good as the Lance sisters in their prime. McKenna is too soft for you—she loses the combat trials four-to-nothing every time." Then there's a pause. "And we both know that Sara's just trying to get back out there by any means necessary because that's where she thrives."

His voice is softer when he continues, "Sara and Nyssa had a good run in the Canary, but that went to hell the moment they started sleeping together. You know as well as I do that romantic partners don't work in the Drift." There's a slight pause, and Oliver uses it to digest that information. "I saw your combat trials with her. You need a four-to-three score to even _consider_ a test run, but she wiped the floor with you." Whatever she says in response is too soft to hear her response, but then the man responds. "Find yourself a Drift-compatible partner, Smoak," the man answers coolly. "Then we'll talk."

Suddenly the door opens, and Oliver blinks twice at the polar opposites the two people present. John Diggle is broad-shouldered and muscular, standing at over six feet tall with a presence that seems to absorb the entire room. He's the only man Oliver has seen in a suit thus far, and he wears only the emblem of the PPDC on his lapel. Most retired Jaeger pilots choose to wear their medals on their suits—and Oliver knows he has plenty—but instead he goes for a clean approach.

The woman, however, throws Oliver. As something with that much passion, he was expecting tall, fierce, and determined, with a glare sharp enough to cut through rock. Instead, he's met with a blonde who barely reaches Diggle's shoulder, with a bright pink top exposed by the standard-issue, black PPDC jumpsuit that she's left open to just above the waist and a set of dog tags much like his own jangling around her neck. Her lips are painted a bright pink and her hair is up in a tight, no-nonsense ponytail that exposes the bar in the top of her right ear. She stares at the Marshal with intelligent blue eyes, through square-framed glasses.

Even now, she looks less than pleased, and Oliver thinks he's very fortunate not to be the one on the receiving end of her fury. "I designed Eureka from the ground up, John," she states in a quietly furious tone, and Oliver's eyebrows shoot up of their own accord. "I built every damn weapon on it. The least you could do is give me a chance to prove to you that I can pilot it."

"No one here is doubting your capabilities, Miss Smoak," Diggle answers with a firm shake of his head, his voice much softer this time. "More than anyone, I understand the desire to pilot a Jaeger. Do you think I wouldn't be out there right now if I could find someone else I was Drift-compatible with?" Silence looms between them for a moment. "There are five billion people in the world. Only ten thousand or so work for this program. But there are only a handful of Drift-compatible partners. When you find yours, you come see me and you can have a crack at Eureka."

The woman turns with a roll of her eyes, but stops short as she takes in Oliver and Moira standing in front of the office. "Let me guess," she starts, her face coloring slightly. "You heard every word of that, didn't you?" Before anyone can answer, she shakes her head. It sends her ponytail flying, and only then does he notice the purple, teal, and hot pink streaks mixed in with the blonde. "Good to know I can make myself look like a fool anywhere." She holds out a hand toward Moira. "It's a pleasure to meet our patron, Mrs. Queen. I'm Felicity Smoak."

The name vaguely resonates with Oliver, but he doesn't remember much of the J-Tech team. The last time he ran in Starling City, it was a bigger crew of about thirty or so Jaegers, and he didn't know all of his fellow pilots, much less the technicians who kept them safe with the best gear they could design. "It's nice to meet you, too, Miss Smoak," Moira offers in return as she shakes the extended hand. "I've heard good things about your work in Coast City. I hope you can offer as much for us here." There's a thinly veiled threat somewhere in there, and Oliver narrows his eyes at his mother.

Before she can make a scene, she pulls herself away from the situation. "There are some things of importance to discuss with the Kaiju Science Research division," she states with a raised eyebrow. "If you'll excuse me. Marshal Diggle, I'll see you around three to discuss the state of this base."

"Of course, Mrs. Queen," Diggle assures her as she starts to walk away.

With a burning curiosity, Oliver steps in to speak to Felicity, offering his hand and a name. "Oliver Queen. Thank you for your work here, Miss Smoak. If these pilots don't appreciate what you do in J-Tech, they should."

The blonde seems genuinely surprised by his statement. "I know who you are, Mr. Queen," she states in a voice that makes it sound like she's stating the obvious. Her mouth turns up at one corner. "You're the pilot who can't seem to get enough of me." She winces, flushing again. "And by 'me,' I mean my Jaeger designs, not me as a person. Because we've never met before."

Oliver blinks twice in surprise at her statement, his mouth twitching into a smile at her haste to cover her verbal gaffe. "You designed some of my Jagers?" he asks, though her words were confirmation enough. Still, he's never known the creators of his machines, and he's always liked the idea of meeting one of them.

Felicity nods, her mouth turning up in a slight smile. "The Gambit, Deathstroke, and the Arrow were all mine," she tells him with a hint of pride in her voice. "They couldn't have gone to a better set of pilots, either. That's why I was so glad you came back to train new Rangers. If we had more Jaeger pilots like you, we would have won this war ten years ago." It's the nicest thing anyone has said to him since he returned, and she's the only one who hasn't tried to nudge him back into the Arrow.

His eyebrows rise in surprise, and she shrugs in response to his unspoken question. "I like to keep tabs on my Jaegers and take care of them. That's why Gambit and Deathstroke are in decommissioned storage in Hong Kong instead of a junk heap somewhere. I had them cleaned up, so if you ever get sentimental, you know where they are." She motions toward the hangar he just came from. "That's why I'm having the Green Arrow cleaned up—she's an excellent machine and she deserves to be treated with a little respect. You don't get fifty-one successful missions out of any piece of scrap."

A touch of amusement strikes him as she uses a feminine pronoun to refer to her war machines; instead of using it for fragile things like boats and planes, Felicity uses it to refer to powerful weapons used to destroy the nastiest monsters the world has ever seen. "The Green Arrow is an excellent Jaeger," he agrees. Personally he thinks it's the greatest Jaeger ever created, but he might be more than a little biased. "Thank you for taking the time to restore it."

"She's the best Jaeger I ever built," Felicity agrees before wincing again. "I've been told that sounds conceited, but I really didn't mean it like that. I'm actually really surprised that I created something that turned out so well." She waves a hand. "After all, the Green Arrow is a _legend_ —it's mentioned in the same breath as Lucky Seven, Vulcan Specter, and Horizon Brave."

Diggle clears his throat behind her, and she blushes again. "I've taken up enough of your time, but it was nice meeting you, Mr. Queen. If you need me, I'm up in J-Tech." With that, she turns down the hallway, toward the hangar.

Oliver glances at the man left standing before watching Felicity disappear down the hallway. "You have a good team here," is all he says, feeling that it's enough. If Felicity Smoak is half as capable as he suspects and they have three of the best Jaegers ever to fight, then maybe all isn't as lost as the world would have them believe.

The Marshal smiles knowingly. "Smoak is one of our brightest," he agrees, bypassing Oliver's bullshit with ease. "After the first Kaiju attack and the nations pooling resources, our best and brightest were selected to come up with a solution. Miss Smoak was among them." He offers a fond smile at the name. "She was at MIT when they found her. If the war hadn't happened, she'd probably be the CEO of a Fortune 500 technology corporation." His smile turns sad. "As it is, she's one of the best J-Tech officers we have."

The former Jaeger pilot extends his hand. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Queen. I might be the acting Marshal around here, but most people call me Diggle or Digg." As he releases his hand, Diggle continues, "I took a hit to the skull when we fought Mutavore, so my memory isn't what it once was. Did we run any missions together?"

Oliver shakes his head. "I didn't get the honor," he answers. And it _would_ have been an honor; Gipsy Danger was one of the best Jaegers to ever fight, even if its tenure was short-lived because of Andrew Diggle's death. "Merlyn and my father were in the Queen's Gambit back then." He hesitates. "And it's Oliver, not 'Mr. Queen.'"

He nods once at that. "Good Rangers, both of them," is all he comments. He marches straight into business, and Oliver appreciates the direct approach. "If you'll follow me, Oliver, I can show you to the candidates." They walk side by side for a moment before Diggle continues, "This complex used to house thirty Jaegers, but now we're down to four. They think the Anti-Kaiju Wall is the solution, but I think we all know how that's going to work out."

With a glance at Oliver, Diggle continues, "The Green Arrow is here for restoration before shipping off to Hong Kong for storage, but the rest are operational. Right now, the only two active Jaegers are Romeo Blue and Crimson Typhoon. Black Canary's Rangers are having trouble linking right now, but when they get over their issues, the Canary will ride again." He turns to look at Oliver. "Maybe if you had the time, you could try to kick them back in line." The former Ranger doubts that would go over well, but then again, they're also a unit down and he's had a particular talent for being an asshole when he wants to be. "And you already know all about Striker Eureka—it's why you're here."

He pushes through a set of doors, into what must now be the training area. They're overlooking it from above, while a crowd gathers around a set of mats and two women beat each other with sticks. "I'll send the files to your quarters, but I figured you'd want to see the candidates for yourself first." He offers the hint of a smile. "We Rangers are men of action." Turning serious again, he adds, "All of them score equally and consistently in the combat trials."

Diggle points to the two in the ring. "Those are your first pair of candidates, Nyssa Raatko and Isabel Rochev. Nyssa comes from… an unusual background—she's a killing machine and she's Drifted before. Isabel is more subtle, more cunning. They make a nice pair." Then he points to two men in the background watching the fight. "Option number two is Ted Grant and Isaac Stanzler. Neither one has Drift experience, but Grant was a world-champion boxer before the War started. Stanzler is his protégé—they trained together back then."

Then he points to the last set of men. "The last two up are Cooper Seldon and Myron Forest. Neither is a fighter—both of them were at MIT when the war started. Seldon has a background in computer engineering, and Forest is a mechanical engineer. They're the ones who built Eureka from Felicity's design—it was only fair that we gave them a chance to drive it."

Oliver probably shouldn't, but he raises an eyebrow anyway. "But not Miss Smoak?" he counters. It's more statement than question; clearly Diggle isn't interested in sending his best and brightest out in a Jaeger to get slaughtered. While he doesn't blame him for that, Oliver thinks he's a little hypocritical for not admitting it.

The look he earns from Diggle is pure ice, followed by a weary sigh. "Miss Smoak has yet to find a suitable Drift partner," he replies evenly. The former pilot takes a deep breath before adding, "Much to her chagrin and my relief." A breathy laugh escapes him. "For a neural link to be established, the two people have to be able to understand one another—to _keep up_ with one another." A smile covers his face. "I've yet to meet anyone who can keep up with Felicity Smoak." He pats Oliver's shoulder. "I'll leave you to it. Files will be in your quarters, if you need them." And, with that, he leaves Oliver to the training area.

Taking the first staircase to the ground floor he sees, Oliver arrives just in time to see one of the dark-haired women deliver a solid blow with bloodlust in her eyes. He can only assume that's Nyssa, the one Diggle called a killing machine. While she's a good fighter and as lethal as he expects, he can also see that she holds a good battle rapport with her partner. The combat trial is about the connection between fighters, the give-and-take. It's a conversation in physical form, and the two have good communication with one another.

He's so distracted that he's taken by surprise when a brunette hugs him around the middle, so tight that she nearly knocks him down off his already tenuous balance. "Ollie, it's so good to see you again!" Thea declares happily, and Oliver wraps his arms around her. "Mom said you were coming back, but I didn't think it would be so soon." She releases him, pointing to the mats. "Come to see the fights?"

"I'm working, Thea," he says to her instead, kissing her forehead. They both know that her insistence is part of the reason he's here. "I've missed you, Speedy." The childhood nickname elicits a groan from her, but one in good humor. He nods to the mats, to the two women fighting on them. "What do you think?"

"About Isabel or Nyssa?" she asks, staring at him blankly. "I think that the two of them kick ass together. Isabel kind of scares me, but Nyssa's pretty cool." She shrugs as if trying to appear blasé, but they both know that's not the case. "You know, when she's not all terrifying-cold-assassin." She licks her lips. "Just so you don't hear it from someone else, she's dating Sara."

Instead of answering, Oliver chooses to squeeze his sister's shoulder. "As soon as Mom gets back, we should all have lunch together in the mess hall," he tells her. "I need to look into these candidates, but I'll catch you later, okay?"

Before she can respond, he pushes his way through the crowd to step into view of the ring. Since the match is still ongoing and he doesn't want to interrupt, Oliver walks up to the girl with the clipboard who doesn't look to be much older than Thea. "Hey," he says as he reaches her. "I'm Oliver. Are you in charge of recording the combat trial scores?"

She stops to glance up at him, seeming completely unimpressed by his presence. "Sin," she answers with a nod. "I keep a record of the combat trials for the day and write out scores for Marshal Diggle to assess." She tilts her head to the side as she appraises him. "Well, for _you_ to assess now, I guess. You're the new Ranger instructor, right?"

With a nod, Oliver answers, "That's what I've been told." He watches the fights for a moment, until the wheels in his head start to turn, and then he gestures to the paper on her clipboard. "This is planned out through the day. Do the Rangers know this schedule?"

Sin nods, though her eyebrows knit together. "It's posted in the mess hall every morning. Why?"

He elects not to answer her question, favoring to ask another instead. "And who is in charge of the schedule?" is his next choice of words. An idea is starting to form in his head, and Oliver thinks it might help. After all, the job of a Ranger only begins when the Kaiju sirens go off; most the Rangers spend their days in the training area anyway. This is the time when J-Tech is busy, not the Rangers.

"Marshal Diggle is the one who set the schedule," she starts slowly, as if she's trying to work out his plan, "but that job would be yours now, since you're the instructor."

"Would you mind if I changed the order then?" he asks her, and the girl stares at him as if he's spoken in a foreign language. They stand like that for a minute, Sin blinking at him with a blank expression and Oliver waiting for her answer.

Finally she seems to realize what he's asking, to realize that he's serious about this question. "No," she answers, drawing out the word in a long, sustained note.

He doesn't answer it, instead turning back to the combat trial and watching Nyssa and Isabel's give and take, the conversation they're having in violent swings. Maybe today he can play the bad guy and finally put an end to this by throwing Sara and Laurel in the ring together—against him. It's not the best plan he's ever had, but they're a Jaeger down and it will take him a month to select Eureka's team and get them ready for battle against the Kaiju. And, after all, it was Laurel who once told him that he was only good at starting a fight.

Maybe, just this once, it can work to their advantage.

With a deep breath, he finally tells her what he wants her to do, and a hush falls across the room when Sin calls their names. "Lance, Laurel and Lance, Sara," she states in a firm tone. After the silence, the crowd starts up into a low murmur, alive with the excitement that accompanies controversy. Apparently they haven't been in the ring together since before he cheated on Laurel with Sara, and that adds new complication to the situation.

Sara immediately rolls her shoulders and steps up to grab a staff from the set, not caring about the order of fights. It's one of the qualities that Oliver has always liked about her, one that makes her an excellent Jaeger pilot. She adapts to any situation because a fight is always her element. Laurel, on the other hand, steps up to the corner of the ring, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's not on the schedule," she states, in that tone that indicates a fight is sure to come.

The girl with the clipboard shrugs, indicating that she isn't paid enough to argue about this. Oliver doesn't blame her. "I'm under orders, Laurel," Sin states with no hint of expression. "If you don't like it, take It up with the new Ranger captain."

"I will," Laurel assures her, displaying the quality that makes _her_ a good Ranger. In another life, Oliver thinks she would have made an excellent lawyer, with her sharp mind and an inner fire that also makes her a strong fighter. "Which insecure, washed-up Ranger has Diggle found this time?"

"At least it's one you already know," Oliver answers, stepping forward. Most of the crowd falls into a hush for a moment before the ones that recognize him start into a whisper. The last time he'd stood on the edge of this arena, he'd been a naïve kid, but now he's a washed-up ex-Ranger who knows what it's like to lose everything. And if he has to piss off Laurel to get her to work with her sister again, he'll do it.

Then he addresses all of the Rangers around him, not just Laurel. "My name is Oliver Queen, and I'm going to be in charge of preparing you to link together to the best of your ability." He doesn't bore them with flaunted credentials; he doesn't give a damn if they think he's qualified or not. He's very certain he'll prove that soon enough. "Before, you had a schedule to work from, but now, there won't be one. The Kaiju don't make appointments before passing through the Rift—you have to be prepared at all times to go into the Breach to fight one. You are expected to show up here when that alarm isn't going off and I'll pick training groups at random." He levels a look around at all of them. "It would be in your best interest to show up." He leaves the thought hanging, knowing they'll think up the worst alternative on their own.

In a slow, fluid motion, he turns to Laurel and Sara. "The two of you have spent the last few years fighting each other, and it's made you unable to link." As they pick up their staves, he pulls a third from the rack by the mats. "It's time you two stopped fighting each other and remember that we have a bigger enemy to fight now."

He joins them in the ring. "You're up against me—and I want to see you working together this time."

* * *

 _ **Notes:** Chapters drop on Friday._

 _Playlist:_

"Alive" - Sia  
"Bohemian Rhapsody" - Panic! At the Disco  
"Believe" - Hollywood Undead  
"Stars Align" - Lindsey Stirling  
"Living Dangerously" - Fools for Rowan  
"Open Your Eyes (Deep Blue Songspell)" - Bea Miller


	2. Restoration

**Chapter: 2 - Restoration  
Word Count: 6507**

 **Notes:** Good morning, all!

I'm absolutely _blown away_ by the response on this fic. Holy crap, Batman! I've been screaming over it since last Friday, and I'm not sure I'll ever stop. Consider me floored and astounded by that. Thank you so much for your awesome response! You guys rock and I always appreciate it. :)

Thanks again be to leviosaphoenix for being an epic beta, and to willowpelt for awesome art.

* * *

Wincing as he pulls himself onto a bench in the mess hall that morning, Oliver watches as several people turn and promptly find a seat at another table. To say he hasn't made friends here would be an understatement; they don't like his way of doing things, and the ones who don't hate him are terrified of him. The only people that dare speak to him are Marshal Diggle, who never comes down to the mess hall, and his sister, who has been spending most of her time in K-Science or trailing after the kid with the Kaiju tattoos. (Oliver can see the writing on the wall, but that doesn't mean he has to _like_ it.)

He knew when he signed up for the job that it would be a thankless task, but he didn't take this job for the thanks. Instead, he took it because leaving the Jaeger program was his worst mistake; he missed the Shatterdome and the lousy food and the hangars full of war machines that, if not for the neural link, he would be piloting again. Oliver was certain they wouldn't like him here, but the Jaeger program is starting to lose funding and people are starting to lose hope. He wanted to give them reason to hope again, to continue believing in the Jaeger program and the work they do.

Otherwise, all the sacrifices that they make—the ones that _Tommy_ made—mean nothing.

From across the room, Oliver watches as Thea sits down at a table next to Roy. People are starting to pile in, and they'll no doubt need the space. So instead of sitting alone at the table, he rises from his seat with another wince and takes his tray with him out of the mess hall, heading for the only place that makes sense to eat his breakfast in peace.

He can feel eyes on him as he does so, but it's probably because of the spectacle he made last week when he threw Laurel and Sara into the ring with him. He has more than a few bruises because of it—and possibly a couple of broken ribs—but now the Black Canary is only a trial run away from being out in the field again. They kicked his ass by teaming up most of last week, and now their combat trials are looking better than ever. In Oliver's opinion, that's worth a few broken ribs.

Slowly, he walks out of the mess hall, navigating through the launch bays to the hangar. The only noise comes from the welding and repairs, but otherwise the hangar is predictably quiet. A J-Tech crew works in the background, but they take no notice of the former Ranger. Instead, he takes the elevator up to the third level circling the open space, sitting down against the against the wall. There he's met with one of the best views in the Shatterdome as he watches the J-Tech crew restore the Green Arrow, and the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly.

He's almost finished with his meal by the time heavy boots start clomping across the floor. Oliver doesn't even bother to look up—it's probably just another J-Tech officer there to oversee restorations. Naturally, he's surprised when the person sits down next to him with a tray. "I see you've found the best view in the Shatterdome," Felicity tells him in a conversational tone. She holds up her hands. "I understand if you just want some peace and quiet, Mr. Queen. I promise I won't bother you."

"Oliver," he corrects automatically, disliking the formality of their conversation. No one calls him _Mr. Queen_ , especially not behind his back. "Mr. Queen was my father, Miss Smoak." He adds truthfully, "And I'm glad for the company."

Felicity snorts as she takes a bite of the apple from her plate. She swallows before declaring, "The only person who calls me 'Miss Smoak' is John—and only when he's pissed. So I'd prefer it if you _didn't_ call me that." She nods toward the emerald Jaeger in front of them. Unlike the others, the tinted glass that forms its eyes isn't yellow or orange; it's black as night. Even dented, sparking from the repairs, and covered in rust stains, it's a sight to behold. "Do you ever miss it?"

Oliver's expression hardens immediately in self-preservation, and she winces. "Oh, God, of _course_ you don't—you've lost three partners." She cringes so hard his face hurts for her. "And you probably didn't need to be reminded of that. Not to mention that you probably didn't want me to come in here and remind you of bad times while you listen to me babble. Which will end in three… two… one."

In spite of the situation, Oliver chuckles under his breath. She seems genuinely surprised by that, but he doesn't dwell on it. Instead, he answers her question. "I miss it everyday," he says in a soft voice, barely above a whisper. Felicity turns to look at him, and louder he continues, "There are certain acts of nature we know we can't fight. If there's a hurricane coming, we have to get out of the way." He turns to stare at the Arrow. "But when you're in a Jaeger, everything changes. Not only can you fight the hurricane, but you can _win_." Only then does he turn to look at her. "There's nothing like it. It gives you the feeling that you're unstoppable.

"But then something happens," he continues in a softer tone, "and it reminds you that whether you're in a Jaeger or not, you're only human. You can still be injured. You can still die." Oliver hesitates, not wanting to scare her but also unable to leave the thought unfinished. "And when it happens, it's worse.

"But I would do it again." Felicity turns to look at him, her eyes wide as though she's startled. He can't look at her right now, so he stares at the Green Arrow in front of him. "Because no matter what, when you've been in a Jaeger, there's no going back." Now he does look at her. "The only reason I won't go back is because I'd have to link again. Once you link with someone, a part of of them stays with you. When they're gone, it's just an empty space."

Silence lapses between them for a long moment, Felicity electing not to say anything. And how could she, after that sort of statement? A flare of frustration passes through him, aimed at no one but himself. This is the first time anyone has actually tried to carry on a conversation with him in the week he's been here, and he ruins it by talking about unpleasant things.

Knowing he has to be the one to break the silence, he continues, "If I could pilot one by myself, I would be out there right now." He shovels a bite of what he think might be mashed potatoes and gravy Into his mouth before deciding to move to a safer topic. "I heard what you said to Diggle. You want to be a Ranger?"

"No," she corrects firmly, "I _am_ going to be a Ranger." Felicity starts waving her hands wildly as she speaks. "Maybe it's not going to be tomorrow or next week, but I am _going_ to pilot a Jaeger before the world ends." She slams her apple down too hard on the metal tray, and they both startle a little at the sound. "For _years_ I have been designing Jaegers and their weapons. I love my job, Oliver. Don't get me wrong. But I have worked most of my life on the Jaegers and the Drift program and I'd like to see what all the hooplah is about." She winces. "That's a weird word, 'hooplah.' I'm never using that again."

Oliver can't help but wonder how someone can be so passionate and so… inherently charming at the same time. "Digg said you were having trouble finding someone to link with?" he asks, genuinely curious. With a smile he adds, "He said something about it being difficult for people to keep up with you."

Instead of the response he expects, Felicity simply rolls her eyes. "He _would_ say something like that," she grumbles. Apparently Digg is not yet forgiven. "Not being able to link up is just the excuse John is using for now. First it was concern over my simulator scores, but I have seventy-three jumps, seventy-three kills and that's not valid anymore." Oliver's eyebrows shoot up; even _he_ doesn't have a simulator score that high. "When I _do_ manage to get through the combat trials, he'll say that I'm too valuable to go out there in a Jaeger." She waves her hands again. "And while I love John—like a friend, I mean—I don't need him to protect me."

"You sound like a Ranger," is all Oliver says. Instead of answering, Felicity only salutes him with her bottle of orange juice. With a need to fill the silence, he nods to Eureka. "That one seems…" Suddenly words fail him because it seems _untested_. The other Jaegers have fought Kaiju and won. But Striker Eureka hasn't been in the War. He'd had the same unease the first time he stepped into the Green Arrow.

Fortunately, Felicity seems to understand. "Too shiny?" she asks with a knowing look. "I build _mechs_ , Oliver, not Jaegers. Right now, it's just a piece of machinery. But when they come back with a Kaiju kill, _that's_ when they become Jaegers." She shrugs. "A Jaeger is only as good as its pilots, you know. I've built a lot of good Jaegers over the years, but even the best ones are just metal and clockwork." There's a moment's hesitation before she says, "You and Tommy… _you_ were what made the Green Arrow a legend."

Before he can dwell on it, she waves a blue-painted fingernail in the direction of Eureka. "Have you decided on the pilots yet?" Two men walk into the hangar as she asks, the more charismatic and arrogant of the two saying something about _Eureka's gonna be ours_. Felicity scowls at them. "And please tell me you're not thinking about those two. Because while Coop is a computer expert, he's already an arrogant ass. Strapping him into a Jaeger would make him more insufferable than he already is."

Smirking, Oliver shakes his head at the Jaeger designer. "I take it you're not a fan," he states. Truthfully, he wasn't much impressed by the pair of Seldon and Forest himself; they didn't mesh as well as they could have. And then the two of them are brains and nothing but: they have no combat training. Their simulator scores weren't very high, either.

"I was once," Felicity admits. "I was a _very_ big fan." The suggestive tone of her voice leaves little room for doubt what she means. "But then I came to my senses. He didn't want me—he wanted my Jaeger designs so that he could work his way up the ladder." She shrugs as she takes another bite of her apple. "We fell in love with the tech first and _then_ with each other. Our connection was intellectual, not emotional." She snorts again. "And it sure as hell wasn't physical."

Oliver tries very hard not to choke on his food at that, and Felicity immediately turns crimson. "That's _not_ what I meant. That kind of stuff is private, and I don't talk about my sex life with anyone, especially someone I just met." Her explanation isn't helping much, either. "What I was trying to say is that there was never that spark of physical attraction."

Deciding that he should avoid this entire section of her conversation like a deadly plague, he responds instead, "They aren't going to be in Eureka." Her brow furrows, and Oliver explains, "They might understand how a Jaeger works, but being a pilot isn't about intelligence or strength. It's about heart." He breathes a humorless laugh, speaking more to the emerald mech than Felicity. "As a Ranger, you put your life on the line to save cities. Normal people don't do that. _Heroes_ do that." He gestures at the two in the hangar, staring up at Eureka. "And those two aren't ready."

It surprises him when her shoulder knocks against his. "You can tell me—who are you interested in sending out into the Breach?" she asks, a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. Before he can answer, she guesses. "It's Nyssa and Isabel, isn't it?" Her perception is uncanny, Oliver can't help but think. "I mean, I know Nyssa is kind of scary because her dad is head of the last independent Shatterdomes—and, well, he's called the 'Demon,' which is kind of ominous. She introduces herself to people as 'Heir to the Demon'—which is terrifying—but she's really not that bad. Isabel is the one that bothers me. Very passive-aggressive."

"Raatko and Rochev would be my ideal choice," he admits slowly.

Again, Felicity somehow manages to read him like an open book. It's actually a little disconcerting in some ways. "But?" she prompts, crunching on her apple. It makes Oliver smile against his better judgment.

"But Raatko has Drifted before with someone else," he answers. The thought makes his stomach drop, reminds him of all of his Drift partners. Bringing baggage into the Drift jeopardizes the neural link—he knows that better than almost anyone, how it messes with the strength of the link. The two are going to be pushing it anyway; they haven't known each other all that long.

With anyone else, he'd have to explain that sentence, but then he's reminded that Felicity helped create the Drift program. "When you link with someone, you link with all the partners they've Drifted with," she states, finishing his thought. She thinks about it for a minute. "But it's different with Nyssa. She's going into the Drift with someone new, sure, but her last partner is still alive." She smiles. "And her and Sara are _deliriously_ happy together. It's not like bringing trauma into the Drift. Happy memories aren't what throw partners out of alignment."

It gives him something to think about, and Oliver ponders it for a moment. Before he can speak again, Felicity adds, "Not to try and influence your decision or anything. You're the master of the Jaeger pilots—I'm just trying to point it out because you seem like you want to pick Nyssa and Isabel and I don't…" Her voice dies off as they open the heart of the Green Arrow, exposing an amber glow. "This is my favorite design plan," she admits in a quiet voice. "They thought I was crazy for putting a double-core nuclear reactor in her and going analog in a digital world. But the flaw of a digital Jaeger has always been that it's susceptible to an EMP. They're harder to control from command, but they're worth it. It makes her one of a kind."

"She always was," Oliver answers, staring at the machine with more than a little awe.

Felicity laughs at him, a bright happy sound. She isn't making fun of him, rather enjoying his genuine appreciation for the machine. Still, it makes him clear his throat and look back to her. "The Gambit and Deathstroke were good Jaegers, but nothing compared to this."

"Well, to be fair," the blonde answers, "the first Jaegers were launched fourteen months after the first attack. It took us two months to come up with a feasible concept design and another year to build the first ones. Queen's Gambit was one of the first to go out. I didn't know what I was doing yet. But back in the days of Mark Ones? She was brilliant. She wasn't Romeo Blue or anything, but—"

"Talking about my Jaeger, Smoak?" a rough voice growls, and Oliver turns to see Quentin Lance heading toward them. He looks more tired and ragged than ever, his hair sticking up at odd angles and bags under his eyes. The man pulls up short when he sees Oliver, and he prepares for the worst.

"Marshal Lance," Oliver greets evenly, waiting for the shoe to drop.

It never comes, though. "I'm not the Marshal anymore, Queen," Lance states in a frosty tone, and it's infinitely more than he expected from the man. "I don't know whether to hit you or thank you for getting my girls ready to go back into the Breach." Oliver braces himself for the punch that he would more than deserve at this point. "As it is," the former Marshal continues instead, "I'll just call us even."

Diffusing the situation, Felicity answers his question. "I was only saying good things, Mr. Lance," she assures him. "I was saying that Romeo Blue was the best Jaeger of the Mark Ones." She nods to its hangar. "It's the only Mark One still used in the War—I think that says something about it and its pilots."

"Yeah, that we're getting too old for this crap," Lance retorts in a dry grumble. Still, Oliver can tell by that slight smile that he has a soft spot for the blonde—something that the former Ranger is beginning to feel himself. "I'm tired of watching good men getting killed in this war. Figured I should put my money where my mouth is and join them." Then he follows Felicity's gaze out to the Green Arrow. "That's a good piece of machinery. It would be better served going into the Breach again, instead of a vault in the middle of nowhere. Shame two good Drifters are hard to find."

Though it pains him to admit it, even to himself, Oliver can't help but agree. As Felicity told him only moments ago, a Jaeger is only a Jaeger when it's in battle. The idea of the Arrow becoming a multi-billion dollar statue troubles him a little, but truthfully, he'd rather see it that way than to see anyone else in the pilot's seats. The idea of someone trying to replace Tommy is unfathomable.

Before he can put much more thought into it than that, a wailing siren roars to life, complete with flashing red lights. Though he knows the call isn't for him, Oliver still feels that familiar rush of adrenaline, the sensation of his body gearing up for a fight. He's forgotten the thrill—and how much he _enjoys_ it. Maybe that's the worst part of being a Ranger; just because he stopped linking with someone else doesn't mean a part of him wishes he was. It's a high, an addiction greater than any of the others he experimented with in his youth, before the world went to hell.

Oliver is on his feet in an instant, Felicity scrambling up beside him. Their trays are forgotten in the shuffle, and he can't help but notice that the blonde has an eerie calm about her—the same as any Ranger on the site. "They're playing our song, I guess," she says to no one in particular, watching Lance descend the stairs toward the bay that houses Romeo Blue. The blonde starts to walk off, but then she grabs Oliver's arm. "I'm on comm duty during Kaiju attacks," she informs him. "You should probably come with—maybe you'll be able to come up with some suggestions since we're only going to be running two mechs."

Between the wailing of the alarm, Oliver can barely make out the words _Category Four_ on the broadcast system. Only then does he get a nervous flutter in his stomach as he starts to follow the mech engineer through the corridors. "They're not going to take down a Category Four with two Jaegers," he states, mostly to himself. "Not without losses." The proper formation for a Category Four requires three Jaegers, and there's a reason for it: there's never been a two-Jaeger takedown of a Category Four without casualties. In fact, there's never been a _successful_ two-Jaeger takedown of a Category Four, period.

"Are you always this optimistic?" Felicity snaps back at him. She runs through the halls, not even panting, as though she does this often. "We may not have much to work with, but, like you said, you have to put your life on the line to save cities. What we're doing might not always be effective, but it's all we have."

Oliver remains quiet as they enter the comms center, watching as Felicity powers on the devices with expert hands. A few others enter after a moment, the Marshal himself standing in the background as a man with long hair sits down next to the blonde and listens as she barks highly technical orders at him. Cooper Seldon enters last, going to his station without a word. His hands are shaking, but he doesn't hesitate. Maybe Oliver was wrong; maybe he _does_ have what it takes to be a Ranger, after all.

Clapping the Green Arrow's former pilot on the shoulder, Diggle says, "I'm glad you're here, Oliver. You know as well as I do what happens when you run a two-Jaeger formation on a Category Four." The set of his mouth is grim, but otherwise, the Marshal portrays an oddly calm exterior. No wonder he was selected to fill Lance's shoes. "I was hoping you might have some suggestions."

With the leave from his boss, Oliver turns toward the 3D, holographic map of the Shatterdome and its immediate waters. "Is there any way I can zoom in to see where the launch bays are located?" he asks of no one in particular.

"Mr. Ramon," the Marshall barks in response.

The man with the long black hair rises from his seat, moving the picture around at his will. Unlike Oliver, he seems to know the technology well. The bay doors on the map aren't marked, but the man picks up a holo-pen to point to each in turn. "There are eight launch bays," the J-Tech officer tells him, "and we mark them A through G." He points to the right side of the screen and starts labeling them with the holo-pen. "A is on the far left and G on the far right, going clockwise around the dome." Zooming out, he also indicates, "The Kaiju is about one hundred miles out from us, south by southwest. If he continues at a straight line, that puts him on the side where A through D are located."

Nodding once in thanks, Oliver orders, "Launch Crimson Typhoon through Launch Bay Bravo and make sure she's first." Over the flurry of action in the comm tower, he thinks phonetics may add to the clarity. Miscommunication is the enemy, too. "Typhoon has mostly short-range weapons—she needs to be in the action to be most effective." Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Felicity's smile, and he realizes too late that her knack of referring to Jaegers with a feminine pronoun has caught on. "Romeo Blue has a series of long-range weaponry, such as missiles. She can do just as much damage at a distance. Launch her out of Delta. Lance and Hilton work well in a support role."

There's a pause in the flurry of movement, and the comm officers turn back to the Marshal, waiting for confirmation. While Oliver appreciates that, he doesn't have time for it now. Neither, apparently, does John Diggle. "What are you looking at me for?" he demands of them, and they all turn back to their screens with the orders. "Mr. Queen has piloted four Jaegers and has one of the best records in the Rangers. He has worked alongside _both_ of these mechs and knows what they're capable of. When we're in this room, his command is as good as mine." As he finishes, Digg turns to Oliver, inclining his head as if to promise, _I'll back your play_.

For a long moment, he has nothing to do but watch as the comm tower crew works efficiently, working as a well-oiled machine. For the most part, it's quiet in the tower, but banging on the door makes Oliver glance toward it. Laurel stands on the other side, and the Marshal himself opens it. "Miss Lance, what are you doing here?" he asks her flatly, laced with the edges of authority. "Your place is in the bunker, with the rest of the Shatterdome's inactive personnel."

"You need another Jaeger out there," she answers, her tone hard. "There's never been a successful two-Jaeger assault on a Category Four, Marshal." Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver can see Felicity's multicolored ponytail swing around, her eyes turning to him. She probably remembers him voicing the same sentiment earlier, though he was a little more optimistic. "You _need_ Sara and me out there if—"

"Miss Lance," Diggle cuts through her, "you have not been cleared for duty." He crosses his arms as she opens her mouth to protest, but something must suggest to her that arguing with the Marshal isn't her best idea. "At this point, we aren't sure if you two wouldn't be another liability in the field yourselves. And there _is_ the small fact that I'd have to answer to your father if anything happened to the two of you." She doesn't move and he adds, "And you are not authorized to be in the tower."

She motions wildly to Oliver before voicing the same thought most of the crew is likely thinking: "Yet _he_ is."

"Mr. Queen is here in his official capacity as a Ranger instructor," Diggle answers in an even tone. "If you would like to give up your pilot status to do the same, we'd be glad to have you here. We'd stand a better chance of winning the war if more former Rangers offered their expertise."

Laurel backs down, but Oliver doesn't expect anything less. No Drift-compatible Jaeger pilot would give up their status to stand in this room or make these calls. Once you've piloted a Jaeger, there's nothing to compare. After a long moment, she leaves with a huff. The former Ranger doesn't blame her; he'd give anything to be a part of the fight, too.

Rangers aren't the kind of people who sit on the sidelines.

The neural links slowly initiate, and Oliver watches the pilots' status monitors come online. _Crimson Typhoon: 89.2% alignment_ , the first reads. The number surprises him; Shado and her father have always done well together. From his own experiences, he knows they've just barely met the minimum link percentage of 87.25%. The number grows stronger with every successful link, and he realizes that it's a miracle they're Drift compatible at all.

The comms start buzzing to life, and it's only then that the former pilot brings himself to full attention. Now is when he'll be needed most, and he sees no point in bothering a tower control team who knows what they're doing. "Crimson Typhoon reporting for duty. What are our orders, Marshal?" Shado's voice asks through the crackling speakers.

"Mr. Queen," Diggle barks, motioning to the mic next to Felicity's station. "This is your playbook, so you're coaching."

With several eyes upon him, Oliver walks up to the mic, adjusting it upward. It's still too short for him to be heard clearly, so he leans forward, his hand on the back of the blonde's chair. She gives him a tight smile in encouragement, but otherwise says nothing. "Crimson Typhoon, this is tower control," he responds. "You're point on this one—permission to engage at close range. Romeo Blue to offer support as needed."

"Affirmative," Shado answers without missing a beat. He's surprised when she adds, "It's good to be working with you again, Oliver." Because she and Yao Fei are linked, he knows the thought came from both of them, and he only hopes he can live up to it.

"Romeo Blue to tower control," Lance's gruff voice barks out. At the same time, their feed comes online. _Romeo Blue: 91.9% alignment._ Not exactly the best alignment there, either. "Tell me where I need to be, Queen." It's the closest he'll probably get to a show of respect from the former Marshal, and it takes Oliver aback for a moment.

"Tower to Romeo. You're support in this mission," Oliver orders, starting to get comfortable in his new role as command. "Hit it with everything you've got from a distance—rocket launchers, heat seekers. If you've got it, use it when Typhoon is clear."

"Roger that," is Lance's only response.

For a while, the lines are silent, and Oliver paces. It isn't useful, nor does it do the Jaegers any good, but this feels inherently wrong. He shouldn't be sitting in a tower listening to the battle. He should be _out_ there, in the middle of the action, doing _something_ other than sitting around and waiting for the report. One glance at Diggle tells him the Marshal feels the same way, but it doesn't make it any easier to handle.

In fact, it only gets worse as the screams begin. They're chilling across the lines, and everyone in the room pales a few shades. Running to the mic, Oliver demands, "Typhoon, Romeo, report _now_."

"Tower, this is Romeo," Lance's voice cuts in, his tone somber. "The Kaiju is down, but Typhoon's gonna be out of commission. We're carrying the cockpit back to base, but pilot conditions unknown."

"Tower… this is Typhoon," another voice calls out. Shado. "I'm bleeding but alive." She's quiet for a long moment. "The other side of the cockpit is destroyed. We fell out of alignment when he was hit." She sounds dazed, probably a concussion forming at the very least. "I'm attempting to reach him." She must leave the speaker on because they can hear as she shifts through the rubble of the area. "Father?" she asks quietly into the space. From there, her questions begin in Mandarin, mixed with screaming and crying. Even though she taught him Mandarin years ago, he doesn't need it to know the answer.

Suddenly it's too much, and he can't breathe. It's too hot and he can feel his heart pounding. All he can see for a moment is Tommy, how it felt to have him ripped out of the Green Arrow's cockpit with a scream. He _felt_ it when the Kaiju sank its teeth into Tommy, what it was like for him to die such a horrific death, the giant teeth both impaling him and tearing him apart at the same time—

"Oliver?" a voice calls out gently. He barely can hear Felicity over the roar of his own mind.. There's shouting throughout the control tower, but even that sounds far away, as if he's moving through water. "Oliver, there's a locker room that connects with the tower. It's quiet. I'm going to take you there, okay? Is it okay if I touch you to lead you there?"

Quiet sounds good, so he nods. "I can't—" he manages between breaths. He has no idea what to tell her because all he can see is Tommy, dying over and over _and over_ again. "Can't breathe," is what he finally manages.

"It's okay," she assures him, her hands on his arm as she leads him forward. Oliver can hear her muttering something to someone else, but can't make sense of the words. "There's nothing wrong with being upset. I'll stay with you."

At some point they manage to collapse into the locker room, and the former pilot tries taking deep breaths as he leans against the lockers, but they won't come. Instead of asking questions he doesn't know how to answer, Felicity just talks to him in a quiet voice. "I know we don't really know a lot about each other, but I think that makes it easier to find stories to tell you. I ate a pot brownie when I was in college this one time. I didn't know it was laced, and I guess it would have been fun, but someone used peanut oil and I'm allergic to nuts." The absurdity of the story would make him laugh under different circumstances. Instead, he reaches out to take her hand, and she weaves her fingers between his. "So instead, what happened was…"

It feels like hours, but Oliver closes his eyes and Felicity continues talking to him the whole time, her tone cheerful and calm. At some point, someone else walks in, and soon she's also pressing a wet washcloth to his face while continuing to talk. She doesn't ask him to do anything, instead focusing on the conversation that she's managing to carry by herself.

When the sense of confusion finally subsides, Oliver feels as though he's run a marathon. "Thank you," he says to her, not trusting himself to say anything else. In some ways, he finds it embarrassing; he's supposed to be a _Ranger_ , to be able to keep calm through anything. _This_ is why he shouldn't be back here.

"Of course," is all she answers. He opens an eye, turning his head to study her, and Oliver is relieved not to find pity written over her features. For the most part, Felicity just looks a little concerned.

"I hope you don't mind, but I had Roy come in with a washcloth—I didn't want to leave you like that." Something must show on Oliver's face because she adds, "I thought you might feel comfortable with someone who's more discreet—not that you should be ashamed. I knew he wouldn't say anything, though." In a quiet voice, she explains, "Roy and I shared a room in the bunker during the first Starling City attacks. His parents were killed by the Kaiju when he was ten. He still has nightmares."

She squeezes his hand, and it's only then that Oliver realizes he's still gripping hers like a lifeline. He can't find it in himself to let go, though. "I know you probably don't want to talk right now," Felicity adds, "but if you ever do, I promise to listen. No questions."

"I saw Tommy," he declares with no warning, flinching at the name. "I knew what happened to Yao Fei, and it reminded me of losing Tommy." He turns to the blonde by his side, deciding that he might just have a friend in the Starling City Shatterdome. "It might be harsh, but Shado is lucky she was thrown out of alignment first. Feeling someone die through the link is… horrific."

"We tried the Drifts with one person at first, you know," Felicity answers as he releases hand. "It didn't work." The three words send chills up his spine. Her eyes turn glassy, and he wonders what horrors are playing in her mind. She might never have lost a co-pilot in a neural link, but something tells Oliver that she's seen her fair share of tragedy on a Drift team. "But we needed a way to pilot a Jaeger—something that could be learned quickly and easily. People were dying, so we didn't think about the repercussions.

"I always remember one of my favorite movies from before this mess," Felicity declares out of nowhere. "I don't even remember the name or what it was about—it's been _forever_ since we've had movies. But I remember a line in it: 'You spent so much time thinking about if you _could_ , you never stopped to wonder if you _should_.'" She turns toward him, angling herself slightly. "That's what we did with the Jaegers and the Drift. We were so focused on trying to build this equipment to save ourselves that we never thought about what trauma it would inflict on our pilots."

Quiet understanding passes between them for a long moment, and neither feels the need to fill the silence. It's an odd kind of quiet, the kind Oliver used to enjoy with Tommy just before going into the Jaeger together. After Drifting together, they had been in each other's minds, and there was nothing left to say. That's how it feels now with Felicity.

"We're down to two functional Jaegers," he comments to her after a moment. "Canary and Romeo are all we have."

With a grim set to her mouth, Felicity nods once. "I have a couple of designs that I'm working on, but they aren't completed yet." She turns to him. "After Green Arrow's success, they wanted to reassign pilots to her." Oliver tenses; he hadn't thought about that, and no way in hell does he want anyone else in _his_ Jaeger. It's probably an irrational thought, but there's just something special about the Arrow.

One corner of the mech designer's mouth quirks up, pointing to his expression. "That was what I said," she agrees. "Only less _grr_ face and more expletives and yelling." He chuckles, the sound odd to his own ears. It's been a long time since he's had anything to chuckle _about_. "I told them that the success with Green Arrow couldn't be repeated with another set of pilots and that it designed specifically to the two of you, down to the way you two were docked in the cockpit. Remodeling it would cost a fortune." She shrugs. "So I suggested building another one with a few changes—smaller, faster, and a Mark Five."

"Then there's another design Ray helped me with," Felicity continues. "One of the flaws of the Jaegers has always been that they're too heavily armored to have any sort of speed. They're slow and inefficient." She grins at him. "With the exception of the Green Arrow, of course. She's big _and_ fast. My kind of Jaeger." Waving a hand, she goes back to her original point. "Ray and I were talking about it, and he suggested going with a diamond-reinforced metal that's lighter so it can move faster. Short-close range weapons because it can handle them." She grins. "I call her Coyote Tango."

Though he hates the thought, Oliver still admits, "But that won't help us now. We have Romeo Blue and the Black Canary, but that isn't enough to take down a Category Four without casualties." As much as the thought forming at the back of his mind gives him pause, he realizes, "But we have the Green Arrow."

Felicity's lips part, her mouth forming a small O of surprise as she realizes what he's getting at in record time. "You want to get back in the Green Arrow," she declares. If anyone else was speaking, it would be a question, but somehow she understands him with an uncanny amount of insight. Oliver nods once, expecting her immediate protests, but she thinks on it for a long moment, cautious.

Her answer is simple and declarative: "I'll make a list of candidates for your new co-pilot."

* * *

 _Playlist:_

 _"We Don't Have to Dance" - Andy Black_  
 _"Earth" - Jesper Kyd_  
 _"Pain" - Three Days Grace_  
 _"Last of the Wilds" - Nightwish_  
 _"Here's to Us" - Halestorm_  
 _"You Haven't Seen the Last of Me" - Cher_


	3. Rapport

**Chapter: 3 - Rapport  
Word Count: 6284**

 **Notes:** I am so sorry about the slight delay in posting. I left a post on Tumblr earlier today to let y'all know when I could, but my modem _and_ wireless router went out. Because I'm lucky like that. :P So I didn't have a chance to post in the morning, like usual. Anyway, here it is now. :)

I hope the chapter makes up for the delay. I always love to hear your thoughts, but thanks for being awesome enough to read! :)

* * *

Time moves fast in the Shatterdome. Oliver always knew that, but last week's Category Four feels like a lifetime ago now. Instead, there's a new, red mech sitting in Crimson Typhoon's hangar, less than half finished with the same basic design as his Green Arrow. Next to it are the thin, black-and-purple legs of another new Jaeger. The entire place is now whispering with the rumor that Oliver Queen is returning to a Jaeger after a year away.

Despite the changes, most things stay the same. Most of the Rangers and would-be pilots are terrified of him, and Felicity is the only co-worker who will look him in the eyes. She eats lunch with him every day, and they're sometimes joined on overlook by Thea and Roy. For the most part, he keeps to himself and no one asks inane questions about his time as a Ranger.

The chances of keeping to himself today, however, are small. The minute he enters the trial arena to test out his potential co-pilots, he's met with most of the Shatterdome's population, all angling for the best spots to watch. Apparently they don't restrict clearance here any longer. He shoulders his way through the crowd with a sigh, only stopping when he's met with both his mother and sister.

Apparently they're here to watch his "return to glory," too.

Instead of treating him like he's returning home, Thea just hugs him before asking, "Ollie, are you sure you want to do this?" She swallows, and Oliver watches both her fear and determination flicker across her face. In the last week, she's cut her hair short, and he's seen her in the arena after hours, practicing. She may have lost a father and a second brother to this attack, but it seems that his sister is ready to fight, too. "I know how hard it hit you after Tommy." Unlike anyone else, she never hesitates or flinches over his name. It just is what it is, and it's one of his favorite qualities about his baby sister.

In answer, Oliver kisses her forehead. "When you're a pilot, you'll understand," he replies evenly, watching as the implications of his words dawn on her. Quieter, so their mother won't hear, he adds, "You need to raise your guard a little, but you're doing good." With a partial smile, he asks her, "You know you'd be my first choice, right?" Even without a combat trial, he knows they wouldn't be suited; Thea is too impulsive, even for him.

She nods before his mother turns to him, a proud smile on her face. It makes him frown; he's done nothing except watch as four co-pilots have been killed, and now he's ready to take a fifth to likely end the same way. "I always knew you'd come back to this, Oliver," Moira declares. "You were always a good pilot."

Instead of answering, he moves closer to the ring. Sin—his assistant—gives him a nod and a slight smile from one edge of the ring, and he returns it before crossing to where Digg and Felicity stand. While Digg is there in an official capacity, Felicity holds a clipboard, wearing her black jumpsuit with a purple tank and a wide smile. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail again, and he can see the comm device clipped over her ear.

The blonde has no hesitance about walking up to him as she stands on the edge of the ring She throws him a smile that makes him automatically return it. "I hope you trust my judgment," Felicity breathes out. "Because, well, we don't have that many candidates, and it's hard to find anyone who seems complementary." She pushes her glasses further up her nose. "I mean, I watched the tapes of your missions. All one hundred and five of them." Oliver's eyebrows shoot up; even he didn't know how many missions he'd piloted.

She taps the chart with her pen, talking faster with her enthusiasm. "And I decided to discount the first thirty-eight because they were so different. It was clear that you were letting the most experienced pilot take control, but I could see the first moment that you took control. It was after Slade was injured in Deathstroke. You—"

While he loves the way her eyes light up with her passion, Oliver doesn't really have all day. Because of that, he cuts in, "Felicity."

He doesn't say more because it isn't required. She knows what he means, nodding several times before launching into, "Anyway. I have three candidates that I thought might work." She points to the chart. "Which do you want first: the most likely, the wild card, or the long shot?"

Feeling the need to tease her, he leans over to see the clipboard. Felicity holds it tighter to her chest, keeping it a secret. "Are any of them you?" Oliver asks with a smile. They both know that's an impossibility, but he likes to remind her that she'll make a damn good Ranger someday. Maybe he'll pair her and Thea up tomorrow.

The J-Tech officer shoves his shoulder in response. "Of course not," she answers with a roll of her eyes. She cuts a dark look at Marshal Diggle. "He's still trying to sabotage me so I'll stay safe and locked up in the tech dungeon all day." Her expression sours, and he wishes he hadn't brought it up. "Make your choice, Oliver. We don't have all day."

"My loss," he answers with a shrug. "You'll be a great pilot someday, and I'll never be able to say I was your co-pilot."

It does the trick, causing those fuchsia lips to turn upward again. She might be rolling her eyes, but Felicity is still in a better humor, which Oliver finds infectious. "Stop trying to butter me up, Queen," she barks, "and make your choice."

"Most likely," he answers her question. "I'm ready to get this over with."

Sarcastically, she replies, "That's the spirit." Louder, she calls, "Ted Grant."

Already Oliver knows that he isn't going to find a co-pilot today. He's watched Grant fight, and, while he's a great fighter, their styles don't match. But, then again, Felicity must have poured over hours of footage to select him, so he takes the staff Diggle offers him and steps into the ring. "Begin," he calls out after both men are in position.

To call it a fight would be a joke. It's more like a massacre. Grant gets a few points in, but it's still a four-to-two that ends in less than ten minutes. Because the trials are all about rapport, Oliver knows that isn't enough. They can't communicate in a fight. Beating Grant isn't a challenge at all.

The next two aren't any better. Oliver wipes the floor with Ray Palmer, at an easy four-to-zero that isn't even a fight. Sebastian Blood puts up a much better fight than the other two, but he doesn't know when to take a winning hit, so Oliver wins that one at a four-to-one.

As he stands in the middle of the mats panting, he takes a moment to think through his previous partners and why they worked together in the trials. When he fought his father on these mats, Robert had been slow and Oliver fast. With Slade, it was about watching and learning, about discovering more about himself. He and Maseo had been equals with very different fighting styles, and he and Tommy were mostly polar opposites who complemented each other. Oliver had never meshed well with the obvious choice, but instead been the wild card.

That realization puts a dangerous thought in his head.

With the staff he collected from Blood in his hand as well, he moves off the mat, wiping the small amount of sweat off his brow. "Well that was a disaster," Felicity declares. "The way you fight on the mats is different than how you move in a Jaeger, so maybe I can correct and…" She trails off when he offers her the staff, her brows knitting together in irritation. "That's not funny, Oliver," she declares. "I get you're trying to be supportive—and I appreciate that, but—"

"This isn't me trying to be supportive, Felicity," he assures her, and her eyes widen as she realizes this isn't a joke. "When I began to understand to learn what it is to be a Jaeger pilot, Slade and I started falling out of alignment." That was part of it, but, well, Oliver blew that partnership, too. "Maseo and Tommy were never the likely choice. Maseo became my co-pilot out of necessity." He looks down at her. "Tommy and I never would have been paired if we didn't train together and realize it. My co-pilot has never been the predictable choice, but they have been the right one." Offering her the staff again, he admits, "I think you could be the right one."

Before she can agree or not, Diggle cuts in, "Not happening." Felicity turns to protest, but he doesn't let her. "You're Drift compatible, Felicity, but there also has to be a physical compatibility, as well." He motions between them, letting their differences in stature make the point for him. Oliver is over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, whereas Felicity only reaches above his shoulder in heels and has a very slim build.

Felicity opens her mouth to argue, but Oliver is faster this once. "Marshal," he insists in a firm tone, "it isn't just about that. You know as well as I do that it's about being complementary, not alike. I'm a fighter, but Felicity is a thinker. We could match up in a fight." He holds up his hands. "I'm not asking you to release her from J-Tech." Yet, he adds in his head. "I'm asking you to give this a shot." He shrugs. "If it isn't going to work, what do you have to lose?"

This time when he offers the staff, Felicity takes it, passing the clipboard off to the Marshal and handing him her comm link. There's a sharp intake of breath from their audience as she steps into the ring, but Oliver ignores it. Instead, he watches the meticulous way she folds the jumpsuit when she steps out of it, standing in that purple tank and a pair of cotton pants. Her shoes go next to it, and he smiles at her blue toenails when they curl into the mat.

After she tucks her dog tags into her tank, she steps into position and gives him a nod.

Despite how much he likes Felicity, Oliver isn't merciful. He flies at her, but Felicity is both smart and fast, stepping out of the way and tapping him lightly on the back with her staff. A triumphant smile is on her face when she declares, "One, zero, Queen." Though he should probably be upset, it only makes him grin in return.

They fall back into position to go again, and this time Felicity is the one to go at him. He catches her swing with his staff easily, catching her foot and dropping her. Just to make it clear she's lost, he points the end of the staff at her throat before offering her a hand up. "One, one, Smoak," he counters. A taunting edge enters his voice, and he has to remind himself this isn't a competition. It's a dialogue, and neither one of them are carrying on a conversation well.

"I wanted to make you feel better about yourself," she answers with a cheeky smile as she falls back to starting position. The two of them circle each other this time, wary and aware of the kind of fighter they're facing. It feels like forever as they make a full three hundred sixty degree turn around the mats.

Finally, he lashes out, but Felicity catches his staff. The impact is a little strong for her, he can tell, so he goes for another swing, attempting to force her to the defensive. Instead, she taps his abdomen with the staff again. "Two, one." She makes a face. "You better not be going easy on me, Oliver."

"Never," he promises, moving back into starting position. "You fight differently than I expected." It's the truth; Felicity is a cunning fighter, one who knows she's at a disadvantage against her opponent. Instead of using force, she uses her brain. He thought she'd fight more like Cooper—choppy movements and short, tense blocks—but she really fights more like Sara than anyone else he's gone up against.

When they circle again, he makes a better move and catches her in the shoulder. "Two, two, Smoak," he offers with a smile. "Better watch it."

This time when they clash, it's fast, brutal, and intense. She moves first, catching him off-guard, and it sends him launching into a series of blocks and counterattacks. The sound of wooden staves knocking against each other creates an erratic, wild rhythm.

When he wins the point, it isn't pretty. Both of them are breathing hard and he's sweating with the exertion. What Felicity lacks in strength, she more than makes up for in speed. "Three, two," he offers with a nod and a smile of appreciation.

Now that the both know what they're facing, their next round feels like an eternity. Just when he thinks he has a victory, she counters and pushes him into submission with a smile gracing her features. Felicity Smoak is a woman who knows when she's won. "Three, three," she declares with a wide smile.

Oliver returns it without hesitation. Despite who wins this point, it doesn't matter anymore. The two of them are going to end at a four-to-three, which means they're going to qualify for a test run in the Green Arrow. All of his life, he's always believed that male and female pilots who don't share a blood relation aren't compatible, but they've just destroyed that theory with two red staves and several furious blows.

Despite the fact that they've already won, Oliver fights that much harder. Win or lose doesn't matter now, so he has no reason to back down. Apparently Felicity reaches the same conclusion because her attacks come faster than before. Though she could probably put him on the defensive and take him down, she doesn't. Felicity is careful in the face of a victory, letting him tire with the weight of his own swings. She has barely broken a sweat, even now, and she takes her time with him.

Finally the defeat comes, but not the way he expects. She dodges one of his swings completely, slipping under him to knock his feet entirely out from under him. The red staff prods the middle of his chest, just under his breastbone. "Four to three," she declares, panting.

The arena is silent as she offers him a hand, and Oliver takes it without any hesitation. He's immediately wrapped into a tight hug that knocks what little breath he has left out of him, and he tenses when he feels her lips on his cheek. "Sorry," Felicity says as she pulls back, not quite meeting his eyes as her cheeks flush. "I just got excited because I'm finally going to be a Jaeger pilot. I've been working for this for years, and I…"

She grows quiet as Oliver throws his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side. For a long moment, all they do is share goofy grins, the blonde's eyes sparkling with the same excitement he knows she sees in his, too. He's excited for her; all these years of wanting to be a Jaeger pilot must have seemed like an impossible dream to her, but now it's never seemed closer. "It never goes away," he warns her. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to her temple before adding, "Thanks for taking the chance."

"Marshal Diggle," Oliver declares between heavy breaths, "this is me asking you to release Felicity from J-Tech."

Despite his obvious objections to the idea, Digg still smiles at the two of them. "I think you're putting the cart before the horse, Mr. Queen," he answers with a tinge of warning. "I want to see the two of you Drift before I go that far. Miss Smoak?" Felicity pulls away from her sparring partner, standing almost at attention while waiting for the rest of his words. "Can you have the Arrow's cockpit modified for our newest Ranger by tomorrow?"

The blonde beams, and Oliver finds her good humor contagious. "I'll work all night if I have to," she promises with a nod. The two of them share some sort of silent communication before she runs up and hugs Diggle, too. He seems a little stunned, but when Oliver laughs for the first time in years, it seems to break the spell and the Marshal returns the hug.

"You've worked hard today, Smoak," is all Digg says to her when he pulls away. "Go hit the showers and take the rest of the day off." His eyes light up with amusement. "I want you rested and prepared to Drift tomorrow at eleven hundred hours." He glances at Oliver over the top of her head. "That includes you, too, Queen."

He responds with a nod, helping Felicity gather her things before they head for the communal showers off to one side of the arena. She's already speaking into her comm, directing other members of the J-Tech team and explaining the situation. There's a new bounce in her step, and he actually laughs as she terminates the link while attempting to seem blasé about the entire ordeal.

"It was a crazy choice, Oliver," she declares out of nowhere, "but I'm glad you convinced me to join you on the mats." As they enter the locker room and go to their respective lockers, she continues, "This is something we never predicted about the Drift. When the design team started testing the idea, we found that Drift compatibility was a fragile thing. Identical twins were best, obviously, but then we discovered that siblings and familial groups could bond, but we thought Drift compatibility is best with a shared past."

Oliver walks into one of the shower stalls and locks it, and he can hear Felicity do the same in the stall next to him. "From what we know about the Drift, it doesn't make sense that we have an established rapport. I met you three weeks ago. People have to know each other for years before—" She immediately stops, and he can hear the rustling of clothes in the silence. "And you probably still don't want to listen to me babble about Jaeger tech."

"Before they can Drift," Oliver finishes for her, stepping under the spray of hot water. He ignores her last sentence; the Drift is important to him, too, as a pilot. Maybe he doesn't find it as fascinating, but Felicity's enthusiasm is infectious and he's happy to indulge her. "I think there's more to it than anyone really understands at this point. I've never worked well with the obvious choice. No one thought Tommy and I would work, either."

"You two had a ninety-six percent link," she states over the roar of her own shower, sounding surprised by the confession. "That's one of the highest in Jaeger history. No one's ever heard of a link over ninety-six percent." Her voice turns quiet. "If we're able to Drift, it might change what we know about the Jaeger program and the Drift completely. I hate to admit it, but maybe J-Tech doesn't know everything."

Before Oliver can answer, a shrill ringing comes out of nowhere. "Oh, that's me," she calls, sighing. "I'm so glad I was important enough to deserve one of the waterproof comms." There's a short pause and a few clattering sounds before she picks up with, "Technician Smoak, Starling J-Tech. …Oh, hey, Mom."

Even though it's probably rude to eavesdrop on her conversation, Oliver can't help but listen a little closer at that. Felicity hasn't really spoken about her family in the time he's known her, even though she's almost always talking about something. Even now, she doesn't seem particularly pleased to hear from her mother, but that could be the timing.

Her enthusiasm picks up, though, as she continues, "Everything is going well. Really well, actually." A slight pause, as if she's steeling herself before adding, "I finally got a chance on the mats today." This time the pause is longer, and she sighs through it. "I didn't get it out of my system, Mom. I have a partner." The silence permeates through the entire locker room. "We're doing a trial run tomorrow at eleven. I know you don't approve, but this is kind of a big moment. Your Shatterdome pass is still valid. You could come, if you want."

More than anything, her words make Oliver hurt for her. He knows that tone, the tone of a child who is afraid to want something from their parent because they expect to be disappointed. He'd never want her to experience that, as something he became accustomed to while growing up as the Queen family disappointment.

"The Jaeger I'll be controlling?" she asks, sounding as though she repeats it. "No, of course it isn't Striker Eureka. I may have designed her, but there's no way I'm making my first Drift in a Jaeger that hasn't been tested." This time there's some hope in her voice, her tone taking on a subtle hint of pride. "You've heard of her, though. She's an old Mark Four. One of mine, actually—the best I ever built. I'll be piloting the Green Arrow."

The next time she speaks, Felicity sounds a little more cautious. "No, it's not McKenna. John didn't think we were Drift compatible, remember?" She releases a breathy laugh as Oliver switches off the spray and reaches for a towel. "It's…" She sighs. "It… well, it goes against everything we know about Drift compatibility. I was pulled into the ring because I never thought it would work, but…"

Knowing she's stalling, Oliver calls out, "Are you already ashamed of me, Felicity? Usually it takes longer."

Her response is almost instant, declaring, "I am trying to have a private conversation here, Oliver. So unless you're my mother, at least attempt to mind your own business." She's trying her best to sound stern, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "And if anyone here should be ashamed of their Drift partner, it should be you. I'm the rookie and you're the veteran pilot."

"You're the genius and I'm the screw-up," he counters without missing a beat.

"Armchair scientist and war hero," she retorts after a laugh.

"Promising beginner and retired failure."

"Spark chaser and decorated soldier."

"Brilliant technician and blatant womanizer."

"Dreamer and realist," Felicity suggests.

"Idealist and pessimist," Oliver corrects.

"Indiscreet chatterbox and careful observer."

"Young and hopeful versus scarred and jaded."

"Naïve Jaeger artist versus brilliant Jaeger tactician." It's a compliment Oliver doesn't expect; he didn't do a lot in last week's failure. He sure as hell didn't save Yao Fei, but he supposes they did win. It was the first time a two-Jaeger team ever took down a Category Four, so maybe she isn't just being nice and overstating his skills—just this once. Before he can counter with another set, she turns off the water and demands loudly, "How the hell did we match up again?"

It must be a rhetorical question because she tells her mother, "My new partner is Oliver Queen." There's another pause. "Yes, Mom, that Oliver Queen. How did you think I was going to pilot the Green Arrow? No way would I trust anyone other than him to pilot her." Oliver smiles at the compliment as he dries his hair off with a towel.

"Well, yeah," Felicity retorts to something her mother says. "We're going to Drift. I'll be in his head, and he'll be in mine." Whatever her mother retorts next causes her to scoff. "We don't need a neural handshake to figure that one out, Mom. I'm straight and he's Oliver Queen. Everyone in this building who is attracted to men finds him insanely beautiful to look at." He drops his dog tags at that declaration, and they clatter against the tile floor. This is a complication he didn't think of when leading a potential female co-pilot onto the field today. "But, more importantly, he also happens to be my friend. The fact that he's nice to look at is just a bonus."

Before he can do more than breathe a sigh of relief that this isn't going to turn into another relationship with an odd sexual undercurrent, Felicity calls out to him, "Oliver, my mom wants to come tomorrow and she wants to meet you. Before you make a decision, you should know that she's twice as bad as me and will probably say something embarrassing." As an afterthought, she offers, "I added that last part, not her. You are under no obligation to meet her. In fact, I'd strongly suggest you say no."

Releasing a breathy chuckle, he calls loud enough to be heard over the comm line, "I'd love to meet you, Ms. Smoak."

There's another clattering noise, this one a little more violent than a simple pair of dog tags. "Damn it," the blonde swears. "I just dropped my glasses, and they blend in with this black tile floor. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Love you. Bye."

So she doesn't have to ask, Oliver offers, "If you're dressed, I can pick them up for you." He unlocks the door of his shower stall, stepping out. There's no response, but he hears the rustling of clothes and a few more things hitting the floor. In between, he can hear her mutter a few curses. "Felicity?" he tries again.

"Yeah, hold on," she tells him, sounding distracted. "I'm losing most of my stuff." There's some rustling and clattering before the lock clicks open. With a little caution, he pushes the door open, watching the floor for her glasses. It's a good thing she didn't move; they're right by her her feet.

Only after he picks them up and offers him to her does he even take the opportunity to take in her appearance. She's in a clean pair of uniform pants and a lime green tank with a neckline falling dangerously low. Sapphire blue straps poke out from underneath, and Oliver tries not to focus on the implications of that thought. Her hair damp now, curling at the edges. The pink streaks frame her face, whereas the purple and teal are layered through it. Her feet are bare and her skin is flushed from the hot water. There's something strangely domestic about the entire thing.

"Thanks," she says, her voice a little breathy. When she slides them onto her face, her eyes widen a little, openly staring at him. Only then does he realize that he isn't wearing a shirt, standing in front of her in a pair of jeans and bare feet. All of his scars from old Jaeger injuries are on display, something he doesn't like to let anyone see.

"Oh, God, I'm staring," she declares, making them both jump at the sound of her voice after the long silence. "I just made this weird, didn't I? And I was trying so hard not to make this weird because you're going to be in my head tomorrow, and now I'm pretty sure I just checked you out." Her eyes flick downward and back up again. "And I just did it again. I should stop before I make this weird." Felicity makes a small hand motion as she corrects, "Well, weirder. I'm so glad I'm going to pilot a Jaeger before I die of embarrassment."

It forces a breathy laugh out of his throat and a smile onto his face. Oliver's concern is that most people see the scars, but it appears that Felicity's staring had nothing to do with that. "I won't apologize for staring if you won't," he bargains. It causes her eyes to go wide, and the dusting of pink across her cheekbones intensifies. He's also delighted to see that it spreads across her breastbone as well. With a shrug, he adds, "It's an unspoken rule between Jaeger pilots that we don't talk about what we see in the Drift."

Her eyes focus on something above his as she tucks her hair behind one ear and bites her lip. In this moment, there's little more he can do than stare. He always finds her beautiful and charming, but now it's a little overwhelming. (It takes him a moment to realize that thought will enter the Drift, too.) "That's probably a rule that I'll break," Felicity admits with a tentative smile. "If I learn something embarrassing about you, there's no guarantee I won't use it against you later."

"I can live with that," Oliver assures her. "But there's no guarantee I won't do the same to you." His teasing seems to take her by surprise, but she breaks into a slow, wide smile. It might be one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, so lovely that he can't help but return it. A part of him knows they may not work out—she's never Drifted and he's Drifted far too much—but, no matter what, they're in this together. He holds out a hand for her to shake. "Partners?"

She takes it, but he notices her eyes flick up to his head again for a brief moment. "Partners," she agrees, her eyes lighting up as if she's trying not to laugh. "Your hair is sticking up," Felicity declares before he can ask. "Like a porcupine." She bites her lip before adding, "It's kind of adorable." Before he has a chance to say anything, she's standing on her toes with her hands in his hair.

Though he means to protest, when Oliver looks down at her, it's to find the blonde with her tongue sticking out in concentration on her task. Biting back a laugh, he leans down so she can better reach it. It takes her a while, but then she pulls away with a triumphant grin. "There," she declares, hand dropping to her sides. It's only then that he realizes how close she is, that he can feel her breath on his face. She seems to realize it at the same time he does, her lips parting in surprise. It causes his eyes to flick to them for a long moment.

Before Oliver can do any more than come to that conclusion, she stutters through a breath and reaches for her hair, pulling it up in her hands. "It's times like these that I miss hair dryers," she starts in a conversational tone. Holding her hair in one hand, she turns toward her things, and Oliver barely dodges an elbow in the throat. "Sorry!" She sighs before knocking some more items into the floor. "And of course I can't find my hair tie…"

He spots it a moment before she does, picking up the piece of elastic. "I should get out of here before you decide to throw another elbow," he decides with a slight smile. He ducks back into the shower stall, picking up a gray T-shirt and pulling it on. Unlike Felicity, he barely stays within uniform regulation guidelines, wearing only the black pants, boots, and dog tags.

By the time he throws the rest of his things into his bag and his dirty clothes in the chute, she's fully dressed, too. Her hair is up in a messy bun, tendrils of blonde and brightly colored hair falling out of it. The black PPDC uniform shirt is worn over her tank, tucked into her pants but left open. "I've been thinking," Felicity starts in a contemplative tone.

"Wouldn't be you if you hadn't been," he teases, unable to refrain himself.

His partner retaliates by pinching his shoulder. "I thought I might warn you of what you're going to see in the Drift." Her tone is serious now, her hand motions growing more exaggerated as they walk out of the locker room together. Biting her lip, Felicity adds, "I was here for the first Kaiju attack on Starling City. We were trying to get the Drift technology working."

Though Oliver had been partying his way through East Coast colleges at the time, he remembers the media coverage. They had been in Jaeger trials when the Kaiju they codenamed Scissure came through the Rift and tore through a southwest section of Starling. Most of the city had endured, but it took six days and thirty-five miles of destruction to take the damn thing down. Almost a decade later, the Glades—the area that survived the attack—is still in shambles.

"It wasn't a good time," she adds in a somber tone. "There was mass panic on the streets." She tilts her head up, pointing to an old, white scar under her chin. "That's how I got this." Felicity is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. "It's not a pleasant memory to bring into the Drift."

Even though he isn't sure he wants to share, Oliver is concerned with the repercussions that might come from remaining quiet. "I'm the reason Laurel and Sara couldn't Drift for two years," he confesses to her in a low voice. At first, he thinks she didn't hear him, but when he looks at her, it's to find Felicity's eyes upon him. "Laurel and I were… together for a long time. I cheated on her with Sara." The blonde's eyes go wide, and he winces. "I ruined their relationship."

By the time he finishes, she's already shaking her head. "I'm not sure you get all the blame for that," she disagrees. "I mean, you were a creep for cheating on your girlfriend, don't get me wrong." If anyone else said it, the words would be laced with judgment, but Felicity's tone is very matter-of-fact. "But Sara knew you were dating her sister and did the horizontal tango with you anyway." Oliver chuckles at her description. "So she was a creep, too, and you should share that blame with her. That doesn't have to define who you are—who either of you are—now."

Shrugging, the blonde concludes, "We've all done stupid things, Oliver." A tentative smile graces her lips as she leads into another tale: "Like hacking the Pentagon for fun—back when we had a Pentagon." This time, his eyes widen at her misspent youth. "I was twelve and stupid, so I got caught. It's a miracle I was tried as a juvenile—sealed record." She shrugs a little. "But I was cute and I cried a lot, so they took it easy on me."

To his own surprise, Oliver can picture a blonde, twelve-year-old Felicity with braces smirking at the Pentagon mainframe on her laptop screen. "I can actually see you hacking a secure government server," he admits to her slowly. Despite that, there is one part of the picture he can't really picture. "I'm not sure I believe you cried."

"Crocodile tears," Felicity replies with a wink.

He shakes his head at her with a smile. Sobering, he confesses a much darker thought: "I… I was still linked with Tommy when he died. We were still aligned in the Drift." She knows this, of course, but few understand the implications of what that means. "I felt his fear and pain. I knew how helpless he felt." She pales with the implications of his words as he stops in the hall, in front of the door to his quarters. "You helped design the Drift. You know that, when you link with someone, you link with all of the people they Drifted with, too." He sighs. "And tomorrow, in order to Drift, you'll have to feel that pain, too."

Felicity nods once, her expression fierce. "I'm sorry you lost Tommy and that you have to live with that, but you can't scare me off that easily," she assures him, knocking her shoulder against his. "You're the only Drift partner I've ever found." They share a small smile at that; no matter what, it seems they're in this together.

"Probably the worst of memories are going to be when my dad left," she admits. Oliver expects a little sadness, but there's a sharp edge to her voice that says she's angry about it now. "He left us when I was six." Looking away, she adds, "I didn't really understand what was happening. There were a lot of hard days. I'm definitely going to bring those into the Drift." She laughs bitterly. "And since most of our recordkeeping systems from before the attacks are gone, I don't even know if he's alive."

Though it's none of his business, Oliver can't let it slide. Despite their flaws, both of his parents were always present in his life. He never had to wonder where they were, if they were alive. She isn't looking at him, and that isn't acceptable, so he places a hand on her shoulder. Felicity turns immediately, and he looks her in the eyes as he assures her, "It's his loss."

Felicity just pokes him again before walking across the hall to her quarters. "I told you to stop buttering me up, Queen."

* * *

 _Playlist:_

 _"Faster" - Within Temptation_  
 _"Kids in the Dark" - All Time Low_  
 _" ." - Cherri Bomb_  
 _"Cinderblock Garden" - All Time Low_  
 _"Immortals" - Fall Out Boy_  
 _"Stand By You" - Rachel Platten_


	4. Rebirth

**Chapter: 4 - Rebirth  
Word Count: 6056**

 **Notes:** Heh, every time I think of this chapter, I think of Kim making homicidal jungle cat noises. I would say I hope you guys don't make them, but I'd be lying.

Shout out again to my lovely artist, willowpelt, and the best beta to ever beta, leviosaphoenix. Y'all rock my socks (and other outdated sayings).

As always, I love to hear your thoughts, but thanks for just reading and being awesome. ;)

* * *

His lungs feel like they're on fire when he awakens. Oliver can barely breathe and his throat feels raw, making it burn, too. He doesn't have to ask to know he was screaming, deep in the throes of a nightmare. It isn't surprising and it certainly isn't new; whenever he knows crawling into a Jaeger is imminent, his subconscious mind decides to remind him of all the reasons he shouldn't. As much has he wishes he could stop thinking about Tommy's death, a part of him thinks it serves as a good reminder of what he's willing to risk on these missions.

What is new, however, is the way the door swings open. Frowning, Oliver squints at the small beam of light coming from the crack in the door. There's no mistaking the face in the door, and a part of him wonders how Felicity managed to hack into the keycode. Belatedly, he remembers that she's Felicity and she once hacked into the Pentagon. A simple electronic lock was probably child's play to her.

With a twist of the dimmer switch, she allows some light in the room, but not enough that he feels blinded by the harsh fluorescence. She's in a pair of black pajamas covered in brightly colored cartoon cats of various design, her hair sticking up at odd angles, squinting without her glasses. "Are you okay?" she asks into the space quietly. "I didn't want to wake you, but I could hear you screaming across the the hall. I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

"I'm fine," Oliver assures her, but he doubts the rasp in his voice aids in convincing her. Sure enough, the look on her face says she isn't buying it. Because there's no point in trying to lie to the woman he's going to Drift with in a few hours, he admits to her, "I have nightmares about what happened the last time I was in a Jaeger."

Instead of pity, sadness washes over her expression. "You know…" she starts casually, "I don't want to get in a Jaeger so bad that I would sacrifice your health to do it." Oliver opens his mouth to protest, but she holds up her hands. "If you have doubts, you should let me know before we do this in…" Felicity glances over to his clock. "Three hours."

He sighs, trying to find the words, and his new co-pilot pulls a chair from the table in the center of his quarters. She turns it backward before sitting down, resting her arms on the back of the chair. It makes him smile; instead of pushing for information, she just lends a supportive ear. "Felicity," he breathes out. "I want to do this." When he smiles, this time there's no happiness. "I used to love being a Jaeger pilot. To my parents, I was a screw up until Dad threw me into a trial arena. Being a pilot is the one thing I've ever been _good_ at." Meeting her eyes, Oliver assures her in a firm voice, "I _want_ to do this."

To his surprise, that's the end of it. She nods immediately. "Okay." Rising from the chair, she turns toward the door before declaring, "I'm going to take a shower and get dressed. In an hour, you better be down at the mess hall." Felicity points at him, and Oliver can feel himself swallow at the ferocity of the expression on her face. "And you better eat everything on your tray. I've watched you pick at your food for weeks, but you'll need that for energy today. I want you in full condition to Drift."

Though he's known Felicity for less than a month, it's long enough to know that arguing with her when she's like this is pointless. Throwing on the shirt by his bed, he answers, "I'll be down in the med bay." The confession takes her by surprise, so he explains, "I blew my knee out when the Alpha Omega crashed. I'll need pain meds if I'm going to be in peak condition."

Part of him doesn't want to tell her the rest of that truth, though she'll know it soon enough. While physically he can be one half of the Jaeger, the neural load is exhausting to him. Tommy had been his best match-up in his Ranger career, but the assault on Oliver's brain meant migraines by the end of an hour piloting the mech. His last partner had still taken most of the neural abuse—to the point that he had the trademark ocular hemorrhage. It had taken Oliver all of ten minutes to finish off Knifehead solo after Tommy's death, but by then he'd already ruptured the blood vessels in his left eye, his nose was bleeding, and he had the signature "shakes" that occurred just before what the pilots call "lights out." In his five years of piloting the Jaegers, he'd never been closer to death than that moment.

And he had _hoped_ for it.

"I'll get them," Felicity offers. His eyebrows shoot up of their own accord at the offer. Before he can ask, the J-Tech officer smiles. "It's my first Drift," she explains with a shrug. "No one will think twice if I want to take precautions against the neural abuse. One of the side effects of the Drift is severe migraines." Of course she'd know about that. "With the extra physical load to keep up with you, I'd be at a higher risk."

"You don't—" he tries to protest.

"Partners," Felicity reminds him in a firm tone, crossing her arms. She tries for stern, but somehow it doesn't come off right when she's wearing pajamas with pink and purple kittens on them. "You try to pretend you don't hear what people say about you—and they're wrong, by the way—but I can tell it bothers you.

"I've been underestimated my entire career, Oliver," she suddenly declares, and it surprises him that she doesn't seem upset about that. It's just fact. "It's because I'm young, because I'm a woman, because I don't look serious enough." Felicity points to herself. "But despite what everyone may think, I'm still good at my job and I'm going to be a damn good Ranger." Oliver can't help but admire her confidence. "I'm done trying to prove myself to everyone. You, on the other hand, act like you still have a point to make to the world." She smiles. "The least I can do is give you the right weapons."

Before he can try to argue with her again, she slips out the door. In spite of himself, the Ranger laughs at her tenaciousness. He's met men with exemplary Drift records who don't sound as much like a Jaeger pilot as she does. If he can keep his shit together and if they work in the Drift, he knows that Felicity Smoak will be a name the Kaiju learn to fear. She's going to be the kind of Ranger whose name is written in the history books.

Oliver takes his time getting ready, pulling on full PPDC uniform for the first time in years. The uniform shirt isn't comfortable at all, though. At first he thinks it's because of the medals, but after removing all six of them, it still doesn't feel any better. Too rigid and controlled. He sheds it all, opting instead for jeans and a gray sweater.

Deciding he should leave before Felicity decides to send out a search party (and he has no doubt she would), Oliver weaves through the halls of the modified bunker to the mess hall. It takes him a moment to spot Felicity in the corner with an unfamiliar blonde, this one older and wearing a yellow dress with heels. He knows it has to be her mother, but they strike an odd contrast sitting next to each other: Felicity, with her pink, teal, and purple-streaked hair and PPDC uniform next to the blonde in a dress that wouldn't have been out of place in the clubs he inhabited before the Kaiju.

After he grabs his plate, the younger of the Smoak women waves at him. Because her sleeves are rolled up, the action flashes a delicate gold chain around her wrist he's never seen before. Her mother turns his direction as he approaches, her eyes widening as she mutters something to Felicity. Whatever it is, it makes her uncomfortable, judging by the way she colors.

"Hi," he says with a smile, placing his tray on the table across from them. He offers the older of the two a hand to shake. "You must be Felicity's mom." She shakes his hand without hesitation, though her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. "I'm Oliver Queen. If everything goes according to plan, I'll be your daughter's co-pilot."

It takes her a moment to recover, glancing between the washed-up Ranger and the J-Tech officer. "Nice to meet you in person, Oliver!" she declares in a cheerful, pleasant voice. "I'm Donna." As he sits down at the table, she continues, "I can't tell you how glad I am that Felicity will be your co-pilot." He tries not to frown at the wording; something about it indicates he'll be her superior. Judging by Felicity's soured expression, she feels the same way. "I didn't want her first time to be with a novice." She waves a hand. "Well, I don't want her to have a first time at all, but if she has to pilot a Jaeger and get it out of her system, I'm glad it's with a legend."

Both Oliver and Felicity flinch at her wording, and though he can let everything else slide as a family matter, there's one part he can't leave uncorrected. "Ms. Smoak—" he starts.

In what he now recognizes as true Smoak fashion, she cuts across him. "Donna," she corrects.

"Donna," he repeats, humoring her with a slight smile. She beams in response, and Felicity rolls her eyes while picking at her food. "Piloting a Jaeger isn't something you get out of your system." Her expression darkens a little at that, but he wants her to understand this isn't something to do for the sake of marking it off a bucket list. "It's not just about the adrenaline rush or the feeling of being invincible. In the face of the Kaiju, we feel small and helpless. Like it would be impossible to win. But when you're in a Jaeger, _nothing_ feels impossible."

Before the conversation can turn awkward, Oliver points at the bracelet around Felicity's wrist. The gold chain is thin, and only now does he realize that a star of David is hanging from it. The realization comes as a surprise; ever since the first Kaiju attacks, the old religions have faded. Most find it hard to believe in a creator who would allow their creation to battle such monsters. For the most part, the religious are zealots who believe the Kaiju were sent from heaven because the gods are angry—except for a faithful few who still hold on.

Oliver's beliefs tend to center around the fact that even a Category Four can't survive a full plasma clip.

Still, he reaches out to touch it. While he may not be Jewish or believe in any sort of higher power, he admires the fact that Felicity still can. She has hope; that's more than most. "This is beautiful," the former Ranger states honestly. "Is it new? I've never seen you wear it before."

Felicity nods before reaching for her drink. "Mom brought it with her today as a gift," she explains with a glance and a small smile at Donna. "It'd be nice to think God was watching out for us today. We _are_ planning to defy a decade's worth of Drift science." It's only then that Oliver realizes his fingers are still lingering on her wrist, and he pulls his hand away. "Of course, it wouldn't be the first time science was wrong. The first astronomers believed the Sun revolved around the Earth." She offers a bitter chuckle. "And we grew up being told that there wasn't life on other planets. The universe is a mysterious place."

"Speaking of mysterious," Donna interjects, causing Felicity to jump as though she's forgotten her mother's presence, "someone said the two of you put on quite the performance yesterday during combat trials." Leaning forward, she adds, "I know enough about the mind-meld thing—"

Tiredly, Felicity corrects, " _Drift_ , Mom. It's called the Drift."

Ignoring her smoothly, Donna continues. "—to know that you two wouldn't have been paired up." She motions between the two of them before turning back to her daughter. "Felicity, how did you convince Oliver to give you a chance?"

The two partners laugh at the error in her statement together. " _I_ had to convince _her_ , actually," he corrects so Felicity doesn't have to. "She picked out my co-pilot candidates, but none of them matched right. Since the moment I met Felicity, she's talked about nothing but being a pilot." Donna is the one to frown at the turn of the conversation this time. "The traditional candidates didn't work, so I convinced the Marshal to give her a chance."

"And I kicked your ass," Felicity concludes, throwing a grape into her mouth.

Though he agrees, he doesn't allow her the satisfaction of an answer. Continuing his explanation to Donna, he adds, "Felicity and I work well together." That's an understatement; the two of them seem to coexist in a way that he never has with anyone else. She allows him to be quiet when he's in his somber moods, just continuing to speak because she doesn't like the silence and he likes listening to her talk. "She felt more Drift compatible than any of the other candidates, and I thought it was worth a shot."

Donna interjects, "And you've… _driven_ it before?" His brow furrows, and, unsure of what she's trying to say, Oliver turns to Felicity for support. She shrugs. "The robot… thing you'll be driving today." She waves a hand. "The green one with the bow-like shooter things?"

Sighing, her daughter growls, " _Green_. _Arrow_." She shakes her head. "I'd like you to get just one Jaeger name right, for the sake of my sanity." Rolling her eyes, she adds while twisting her dog tags on the chain, "She's only the greatest Jaeger still in operation, and it also happens to be one of my Jaegers. And yes, the Arrow was _made_ for Oliver—literally." With a wry smile she adds, "After fifty-one successful missions, I'd say he knows her pretty well."

Before any more can be said, Diggle walks up to their table. His smile is warm with affection as he states, "You two have a big day today." He nods at Felicity, his fondness for the blonde leaking through his expression as he does so. Despite his concerns about her being a Drift pilot, Oliver is pleased to see that the man is proud of her nonetheless. "Felicity, is the Green Arrow ready to operate?"

The blonde nods instantly. "I have all of the structural repairs completed," she answers. "The weapons systems are also completed, but I had them taken offline for this trial run." Oliver's brow furrows, and while waving a hand, she explains, "The _last_ thing we need is the plasma bow or the cannons coming online in a closed space like this. I am _not_ going down as the first Jaeger team in history to blow their own Shatterdome to hell."

Oliver chuckles and Diggle snorts. It's a good precaution, and protects them against anything worse than the failure they might face. The Marshal declares, "Then I see no reason why you shouldn't start getting ready. Felicity, we had your suit built and modified to your suggestions—report to J-Tech to pick it up before going to the Drive room." Felicity nods once, rising to her feet. The Marshal turns back to her partner. "Oliver, your Drivesuit is in the Drive room already. We were able to repair your old one for this, but Miss Smoak personally made a few modifications to update it."

In spite of himself, he swallows hard as he looks to Felicity. Of course she only winks at him, but it's such a thoughtful gesture that he has no idea how to respond to it. Instead of forcing him into a new suit, she just updated the one he used for five years. It might be battle-worn, but at least it will have some familiarity that he desperately needs at the moment.

The Marshal walks away without another word. Oliver rises to start toward the hangars, but Felicity stops him with a hand on his shoulder. Discreetly, she slips a small pill vial into his hand. "Take three," she suggests quietly. "I don't know how long they'll have us in there, and as the rookie pilot, I'm going to need you at your best."

"Thank you," he replies before swallowing the three pills and shoving the bottle into his pocket. Quieter, he adds, "And not just for taking care of this. The suit was a nice touch."

Felicity throws him a salute before starting to walk away. Over her shoulder she calls, "I'll see you in the hangar, Queen. _Don't_ be late."

The hanger and the Drive room feel like miles away from the mess hall, but finally he reaches it. A particularly talkative technician who introduces himself as Barry offers Oliver a thin, black circuitry suit. As always, it feels a little restrictive and the synaptic mesh scratches into his skin, even through the protective layer. Despite that, it feels familiar, like returning home after a few years away.

The man who gave him the information about the Shatterdome last week in the control tower is one of his technicians. He introduces himself as Cisco and the other technician as Curtis Holt. Both men are content to talk amongst themselves and leave Oliver to his thoughts. Everyone used to know about his tendency to withdraw out of nervousness before a mission, but now, he isn't sure if the two are aware or just being polite. Every time he gets back in a Jaeger, it feels like the very first.

"The armor shell is lighter than I remember," he comments to the two techs as they bolt the emerald green plates of armor into place. It unnerved him the first time, but Oliver is more familiar with the sensation now. The chest plate and back plate are separate, held together by large screws, for lack of a better term.

Curtis laughs. "Your original armor shell was from a Mark One," he says. "I can't even imagine how you guys moved with that. It's like tank armor or something." He pulls out the spinal clamp, and already the metal teeth are moving. "We updated to Mark Five style—lightweight high-density armor. It's bulletproof, of course, and Kaiju claws can't penetrate it."

The tech locks the spinal clamp into place, and Oliver can hear the rest of the suit buzz to life. "Felicity spent, like, three hours last night making modifications," Cisco adds, waving a hand. "A lot of it went over my head—Drift tech is her baby, not mine—but she said she watched the cockpit feeds from your previous missions and made modifications especially for you." It doesn't surprise him; that _sounds_ like Felicity.

Finally, Curtis passes the Jaeger pilot his helmet. Unlike the Drivesuit, it's completely new. The green polycarbonate layer looks as though it will rest lower on his forehead, the glass clear that will fall just under his nose. Instead of putting it on, he tucks it under his arm, thanks the two techs, and makes for the overlook.

He's the first to arrive in the cockpit, and he studies the two familiar docking stations. The one nearest the entrance would have been his a long time ago, but after the damage he did to his knee, the left station puts a higher physical strain on him. Moving deeper into the interior, he goes to the right docking station. A sad smile crosses his face; the last time he piloted the Arrow, it had been Tommy who took the right hemisphere.

The sound of a Drivesuit clomping against the floor draws his attention, and Oliver turns just in time to watch Felicity step into the interior. Like him, she carries her helmet under her arm, but she has on contacts instead of her usual glasses. Her suit's design is slightly modified from his to compensate for her feminine figure, but the plates are still emerald green with a black circuitry suit showing underneath in places. Her hair is loose, the multicolored waves hanging past her shoulders. Most female pilots elect to cut theirs short, but apparently she isn't going to give up her long hair. (Nor does he think she should.)

After a moment, he's able to find his tongue again. With a grin, he tells her, "You look good."

Felicity meets his grin with a wider one. "That's what you're gonna say?" she retorts, placing her other hand on her hip.

With a chuckle, Oliver answers, "There's no point in saying anything, Felicity. In five minutes, you'll be in my head." They both smile at that, and he hesitates. She might know a lot about the Drift, but there are some things only a veteran pilot knows. "I know this is your area of expertise, but can I warn you about a few things that only Drift pilots know about?"

When she nods twice with wide eyes, he warns her, "You know about the random access brain impulse triggers—memories. We call them RABITs. You'll be hit with my memories, which is going to make this harder than it already is. Your first instinct will be to latch onto one, but don't chase the RABIT. More than one pilot has ended up as a vegetable because they held onto a memory. Just tune them out. You'll know when you're in the Drift because it's quiet."

With that, Oliver throws his helmet on and steps into position in the docking bay. Felicity follows his lead, but slower with the unfamiliarity of the suit. Once they're docked and in place, Oliver calls through the comm, "Pilots Smoak and Queen on board and ready to connect." He can see the blonde smiling at him, and he can't help but return it. "Ready to commence trial run."

"Arrow, this is tower control," Diggle responds. He's all business now, no familiarity or friendliness to his tone—not with so much riding on this going according to plan. "Prepare for trial run. Commencing Drift protocols." His voice is slightly muffled as he adds, "Mr. Ramon, initiate neural handshake."

Though he's often heard the neural handshake described as a balance beam with equal weights, in reality, it feels more like he's suddenly being submerged in cold water. Felicity's memories mix with his, so intense and vivid that he can't breathe for a moment. The newest memories come first. Like always, he catches on his father's death, lingering despite still being in the Drift. Tommy's, however, hits him hard and fast, and he has to make an effort to push it away.

Time is infinite in the Drift. The flood of memories is endless, until finally it releases him. Leaving the handshake is like waking from a dream, and it's only then that Oliver can catch his breath, to the sound of his name on Felicity's lips. "Are you okay?" she asks, her voice fluttering an octave higher than normal with a breathy edge. Her mouth is set into a frown. "You didn't align with me in the Drift like you were supposed to."

"A few strong RABITs," Oliver assures her. He's always been particularly susceptible to them, and now she knows _exactly_ why. "It's nothing new."

"Neural Drift initiated," Cisco's voice reports. "You're off to a rocky start, Arrow, but it looks like you're lining up nicely." A moment later, he adds, "Left hemisphere calibrated without a hitch." That makes Oliver release a sigh he didn't know he was holding; Felicity fell in perfectly, a rarity on a first Drift. Of course, he didn't expect much different. Because she can feel his thoughts the same way he can feel hers, she throws him a smile. _Flattery gets you nowhere, Oliver._ "Right hemisphere falling into place… now."

In tandem, the two of them maneuver the Jaeger into standby position. As one, they swing the Arrow's arms so that its hands meet, one in a fist and one covering it. "Pilot-to-Jaeger connection complete," their tech adds. "Looking good, Arrow. Your Drift percentage is calibrating now—just stay steady for now. You can take her out for a spin just as soon as I get a read."

A moment later, there's a ding and an electronic voice in the background, but no one speaks. A hush falls over the control room, the silence odd and unnatural. Just barely, Oliver can hear the Marshal's command of _read it_. "Calibration complete," Cisco informs them in an oddly muted voice. "Alignment percentage of ninety-six-point-six."

"That's impossible," Felicity breathes out. Her confusion is palpable, and Oliver echoes it. "The highest recorded alignment is ninety-six-eight, but that was Robert Queen and Malcolm Merlyn, on their last ride in the Queen's Gambit." She winces, apologizing to her co-pilot in their linked minds. "No one has _ever_ had a first alignment over ninety-four-nine."

"I ran it three times, and I think I know how to do my job by now," another voice cuts in, this one a little snide. Felicity was right; Cooper Seldon really is an arrogant asshole. The blonde snorts in agreement to that thought. Though it's none of his business, Oliver can't really see the two of them together. _Do you really want me to start judging your love life?_ she thinks, which sobers him immediately. _I feel like I just watched a really filthy porno. It's a little awkward._ "All three bounced back ninety-six-six, Felicity."

"Rangers," the Marshal cuts in, "you have the whole hangar to yourselves. Permission granted to take the Arrow out in a trial run. Get used to each other—and the weight of the Jaeger." There's a short pause and a little more emotion enters his voice. "Smoak, this is your first Drift. When you've had enough, let someone know."

"Roger that," she answers. Her brow furrows slightly. "Or is it 'copy'? I always get those confused." A flash of amusement goes through him. "Oliver, stop laughing at me and start moving your ass." Though he chuckles aloud this time, he mentally answers her, _Yes, ma'am_.

They take a step forward, and he can feel the impact of the Jaeger's foot reverberate through him. They take another, then a third, slowly, but building up speed. Oliver allows Felicity to set the pace, but he's surprised to find her pushing harder and faster than _he_ would.

After three passes down the corridor, he can feel his breathing pick up to match hers. Concerned, he looks over. Perspiration drips from her chin, her mouth turned in a frown. Belatedly, the pilot realizes she's taking her half of both the neural and physical load, overexerting herself in the process. He can feel that headache starting to form at his temples, but his knee is holding out well. Surprisingly, Felicity is taking the neural load exceedingly well.

 _I can't take the neural abuse well_ , he confesses to her. A start of surprise flashes through her at the statement, though she already knows the fact. She's surprised he admitted it to her. _The physical abuse is hard on you. If you can take more of the neural load, I can handle more of the physical load._

 _Let's try it_ , Felicity decides. It takes several steps to shift into their new roles, at which point Oliver discovers his headache is fading and Felicity doesn't look as tired anymore. The comm buzzes to life only seconds later. "Arrow, this is tower control. What the hell did you two do?" Cisco calls, his voice an octave higher than normal. Concerned, the two pilots turn to their respective sets of gauges, but everything is in full working order. "Your alignment readings just jumped off the charts. You're at ninety-seven-two."

Oliver turns back to Felicity so they can share a grin, but when he does, the image that meets him isn't the one he expects. Instead of Felicity, it's Tommy he sees, in a battered set of bulky green armor, chipped and worn by battle. "Damn it, it went through the hull!" he screams. "My arm is shot—I don't think I can handle this. Ollie, you gotta—" Before he can finish the sentence, a set of jaws rips through the remaining part of the hull, snatching him out of the docking station. Though he can't see it, Oliver can feel his panic, his pain, the feel of teeth ripping through flesh. And the _screams_ —

By the time he recognizes it as a figment of his own mind, it's too late. His heart rate is already accelerated, and Felicity's in line with it. The words in his ears are garbled and confused, but then he hears Digg saying, "…out of alignment!"

Shaking his head to try and make sense of it, Oliver assures him, "I'm okay, Marshal. Just let me get back in control."

"It's not _you_ I'm worried about, Queen!" the Marshal yells back. "You _both_ flew out of alignment!" A new edge of panic flicks through him, and Oliver turns back to Felicity. Her eyes are glassy and her expression vacant, clearly locked in her own head. He can no longer feel her, which means she's so far out they're not linked any more. Unnecessarily, Diggle adds, "Queen, you're stabilizing, but Smoak is still way out. I need a sit rep."

"Felicity?" Oliver calls out in a wary voice. When she doesn't respond, he tries again, "Felicity! Felicity, honey, stay with me! I need you here!" It's true in more ways than one; just fifteen minutes solo-piloting could be lights out for him. "Just focus on my voice and stay in the now!" To tower control, he calls in a high voice, "Damn it, she's chasing a RABIT! I had a flashback and it threw her into a memory. She in too deep for me to reach her."

"I'm calling Code Red," the Marshal declares.

The call means to terminate and shut down the Jaeger so both pilots can return to themselves, but Oliver has been in Felicity's mind long enough to know that it won't work. "You can't shut it down from tower control!" he calls in to them. "We're nuclear— _analog_. We're not under digital control!" His eye twitches a little, and the familiar ache follows. He's already starting to hemorrhage. In a quiet voice, he asks, "Permission to terminate manually?"

It's a drastic measure, one that's made for the rare events where one partner survives the other. It shuts down the Jaeger so that the pilot can take an escape pod out of the bay. Now, however, it would leave Felicity in the Drift by herself for two minutes or so. For a weak pilot, that could be enough to kill. Then again, chasing a RABIT isn't without repercussions, either—if she stays in the memory long enough, the incomplete Drift could cause brain damage.

If he terminates, it could kill her. If he doesn't, it could destroy her.

"Hell no," Diggle responds flatly. "If you undock, you could _kill_ her, Oliver." He makes a sound like a growl in his throat, and Oliver can't help but agree with his frustration. It reminds him of a twisted game of would-you-rather that he and Tommy used to play as kids. _Would you rather your Drift partner die, or live as a vegetable for the rest of her life?_ "We didn't have the time to run tests. We have no idea how she'll respond to a solo-pilot situation. Permission denied, Queen. Get through to her."

"No," he growls, his voice dropping an octave. Something wet drips from his nose, but he doesn't care. She isn't responding to him, and she's still linked to the Jaeger. He's been in Felicity's head now, and he knows how she'd respond to this choice if she was conscious enough to make it. "You can write me up for insubordination later."

Ignoring the protests that follow, Oliver undocks himself from the bay with the emergency release, ripping his helmet off and throwing it without concern for where it lands. Lights and sirens start up immediately, along with a computerized voice that repeats in an annoying monotone, _Only one neural signature identified. Please redock right hemisphere._ The advice is lost on him, as he runs (as much as he can run in his bulky Drivesuit) to the set of controls at the back of the cockpit. He wrenches open one panel, reaching for the red emergency release button.

The Jaeger goes dark instantly. _Drift sequences deactivated. Mechanical systems offline in ten seconds_ , the AI helpfully informs him this time. Not wasting any time, he runs to the left hemisphere dock, removing the leads for the support system so she won't get tangled in them. "Felicity?" he calls of her, touching her face. Her shoulders are slumped now, eyes closed and breathing deep in unconsciousness.

The dock releases a heartbeat later, and somehow Oliver manages to catch her before she can be injured in a fall. The combined weight of her and the suit, along with his own incoordination, causes him to collapse in a heap on the floor, his legs splayed at an uncomfortable angle. His left leg goes numb below the knee, but all that matters is Felicity is half-sprawled in his lap.

Wrenching her helmet off and throwing it behind him, he pushes strands of hair from her face, slick with perspiration. "Felicity, honey? I need you to wake up," he calls to her gently. He reaches for a pulse, but he can't find one with the bulky gloves. Cradling her against his chest, he removes them to try again. "Felicity? I need you to talk to me right now." His hands are shaking too hard to find a pulse, his worst fears coming to life. Not again—not _her_. "Felicity, _please_." His voice breaks on the last word as he cradles her against his shoulder and pulling off one of her gloves. Oliver fumbles with her star of David bracelet, sliding it further up her arm so that he can press his fingers harder against her wrist.

When he feels the faint thrumming against his fingertips, he breathes a sigh of relief. He pulls her even tighter against his shoulder as he cups her face in his free hand. Slowly she starts to stir, and he sighs again in relief. Before her eyes even open, her first words are, "Oliver? Are you okay?" Of course she'd be the one to ask him how he was feeling. Her eyes finally pull open, and she frowns before reaching up to touch his face. "Your nose is bleeding." Understanding overtakes her features, and she gently pulls the bottom lid of his right eye down. Horror comes next. "Oh, God, I chased a RABIT so far down that you had to solo-pilot. I could have killed you."

"I think that makes us even," he admits to her truthfully. When her brow furrows, Oliver explains, "I couldn't snap you out of it, and the Arrow is analog, so I had to undock. You solo-piloted, too." He checks, and, sure enough, there's a tiny, red spot of blood pooling under her right iris. "You took it better than I did, though." He pauses. "It's my fault. I threw you into a memory, and you weren't prepared for it."

To his surprise, Felicity answers, "The first Drift is the worst." She smiles. "Next time, I'll know what to expect."

* * *

 _Playlist:_

 _"Haze" - Eyes Set to Kill_  
 _"I Am the Fire" - Halestorm_  
 _"Hear Me Now" - Hollywood Undead_  
 _"I See the Light" - Mandy Moore & Zachary Levy_  
 _"Control" - Halsey_  
 _"The Drift" - Blackmill_


	5. Repercussions

**Chapter: 5 - Repercussions  
Word Count: 6298**

 **Notes:** I know I'm a day late, and I'm sorry. I had a terrible migraine yesterday and I didn't do anything but sleep, go to work, and sleep some more. We'll get back on Friday schedule next week. I also have a ton of reviews to answer, I know, so I'll try to get to all of those today after I get home from work.

You guys are awesome, and thanks for taking the time to read. If you feel so inclined to leave a comment, I appreciate it! :)

* * *

Leaning against the wall across from the Marshal's office, Oliver closes his eyes in an attempt to block out the yelling coming from inside. Both Diggle and most of the other pilots are at it, and he knows he'll likely be the next to receive an earful. Today might have been a disaster to them, but not to the veteran Jaeger pilot. Felicity and he made _history_ forty minutes ago. Never before have two pilots with so little background together linked so completely and successfully. Hell, no two pilots, _period_ , have ever been in alignment as high as they have today.

Felicity reaches for his arm, and, though it should surprise him, the action is completely familiar. It's an odd sensation, Ghosting after two years with only himself in his head. Though an unexpected side-effect of the Drift, Ghost-Drifting—or _Ghosting_ —is one of his favorite things about being a pilot. He can feel her nervousness and concern at the back of his mind even now, even as faint as it is. He's never heard of anyone Ghosting after just one Drift, but, then again, the two of them have proven far from normal thus far.

She probably doesn't recognize the bleed between their minds because she's never experienced it, but when Felicity voices his thoughts aloud, Oliver knows she's feeling it, too. "I'm going to get my ass reamed today, aren't I?" she asks him, though she seems resigned to her fate.

The righteous anger that takes over is an unfamiliar sensation, though not unpleasant. "I won't let anyone yell at you," Oliver promises her. "This was _my_ fault. You did fine, but I threw _you_ out of alignment." It hits him again, harder than any violent metaphor he knows. "I nearly killed you today, Felicity."

Before she can argue—and he has no doubt she was about to argue—heels click along the floor, and a blonde in a yellow dress comes spiraling toward them. She wraps Felicity up in a huge hug. "I saw what happened, and they wouldn't let me see you until you were out of the armor-suit-thing and I just…" She hugs her again, and it makes Oliver feel like even more of a disaster. "I'm so glad you're all right."

Rolling her eyes over her mother's shoulder, Felicity insists, "I'm _fine_ , Mom. I went out of alignment, and Oliver knew what he was doing." He scoffs at that description, and it puts him at the business end of a nasty glare. Slowly it turns to a soft smile. "It was just everyone else who was freaking out."

Donna pulls back, examining her daughter and her tired smile. "I'm glad you're okay, Felicity." She turns to Oliver, but her expression changes to alarm suddenly. "Oh my God! Your eye is bleeding! I think you should see the doctor, Oliver. That's—"

He holds his hands up to placate her. His own mother hadn't been so upset about the ocular hemorrhage spreading out at the bottom of his iris. "It's okay, Donna," he assures her. "I solo-piloted and I have a low neural tolerance. It's nothing serious." Before she can worry over him, he adds, "Felicity did well today—you should be proud of her."

The blonde frowns. "I heard that Felicity was the one who went… out of the thing first," she points out, confused. "And that you were the one who saved her. So thank you, Oliver, for saving my baby girl."

"It was my—" he starts.

Felicity doesn't let him finish. "Mom," she calls with a smile, "we have to talk to Marshal Diggle in a minute to determine what happens next." She points to the closed door in front of them. Thankfully, the yelling has quieted for a moment. "Why don't you go back to the mess hall, and I'll catch you when we're finished? I can show you J-Tech and let you meet some of my other friends. Okay?"

"Of course, baby!" she answers, with a glance toward the door. "I''ll see you in a little while, then." She shakes Oliver's hand again. "It was so nice meeting you, Oliver. You two moving that robot together… that was pretty neat." He laughs at her words and they say their goodbyes, both pilots watching her disappear down the hallway.

After she leaves, Felicity slides her hand down his arm to take his. Their fingers lock together, and there's something beautiful about her purple nail polish—she must have re-painted last night—against the back of his hand. "Going back in a Jaeger was traumatic for you," she answers, dismissing it as if she couldn't have _died_ today. "I understand that now more than ever." Felicity laughs, and the sound startles him, causing him to tense. "We're a recipe for disaster, Oliver. You've had four Drift partnerships that have ended badly, and I've never Drifted before. Not to mention, we defy a decade's worth of proven Drift science." She waves her free hand. "This is like trying the first Drifts all over again. There was bound to be a screw-up somewhere."

Another laugh leaves her as she adds, "You know what our ability to Drift makes me think of?" Oliver does, of course, but he doesn't understand the connection. Instead of answering, he treats it like a rhetorical question. "Bumblebees," the blonde declares with a sunny smile. "It's a quote that goes something like 'Aerodynamically speaking, the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly. But the bumblebee doesn't know that, so it keeps flying anyway.'" Waving her free hand again, she adds, "Of course, physics explains why it _can_ fly, but that's not important right now. It's a metaphor."

"Some things just defy explanation," Oliver finishes for her. Felicity's smile widens immediately and she nods several times. It may be her rubbing off on him already, but he understands where she's going with the declaration. "It doesn't make them impossible or unnatural, just outside of our current understanding." He grins before repeating her words from this morning: "The universe is a mysterious place."

She nods. "We _shouldn't_ be able to Drift," she concludes, "but we _are_. So I say we keep Drifting anyway."

"Felicity…" Perhaps they haven't Ghosted long enough because Oliver still finds himself lacking the words to explain. It shouldn't be hard to say that she's one of the most important things in his world—and that losing her would be the last thing it took to completely destroy him. Somehow, it is. "There was a real danger in there." Again he sees her unconscious body in his arms, and the panic he felt when she wouldn't respond. "You should find a Drift-compatible partner and take over the Green Arrow. She'd be in good hands with you."

That familiar fire returns to her eyes again, and he prepares himself for the onslaught of words. Felicity's tongue is just as merciless and sharp as her attacks in the combat ring. "You can't be serious about this," she declares in a dark voice. He meets her eyes, trying to convey just how serious he is. "One bad run is enough to make you re-think this whole partner thing?" He opens his mouth to protest, but she jerks her hand from his to put her fingers over his lips. "I'm sorry I scared you. It's the _last_ thing I wanted to do. But we are _good_ together, Oliver." She waves her other hand wildly. "Even if I wanted to go with your ridiculous idea—and, for the record, I don't—do you think I could possibly Drift as well with anyone else as I just did with _you?_ "

Oliver's eyes widen. Of course he's been thinking it all along, but she's brave enough to say it aloud. After four co-pilots, he's never felt as familiar or natural in the Drift with anyone as he did with Felicity. As much as he loves the idea of them piloting the Green Arrow together, it terrifies him. He's a liability now.

"In ten years of Drift experiments, over forty Jaegers worldwide, and over a hundred pilots, there has _never_ been a partnership like the one we had today," she declares. "There has never been anything like the two of us before. Men and women who aren't related aren't supposed to be Drift-compatible. Pilots without a shared history aren't supposed to be Drift-compatible. No one has _ever_ heard of an alignment of ninety-seven percent." She removes her hand from his mouth. "I'm not saying we'll be a singular event in the history of the universe, but there's no denying that this is _special_." She pokes his shoulder. "And we are _not_ giving that up for a single mishap. If for no other reason, we owe it to that neural bridge to see this through."

Somehow Felicity's passion overwhelms him, leaking out from the edges of his mind and bleeding into his own thoughts. They can do this. He's a little broken and scarred, but she's… well, Felicity: so strong, vibrant, and _hopeful_. Part of him wonders what it must be like for her, to love a world and a life with so much intensity when it isn't always requited. "You're right," Oliver agrees, nodding once. "I'm just not sure the Marshal is going to see it that way."

Before she can answer, the yelling grows even more pronounced, and he can hear Lance saying, "…understand, John! There's no denying that Queen was one hell of a Ranger back in the day!" The backhanded compliment is unexpected. "And I _know_ what it's like to want back in the field, but the kid is _past his prime!_ And Felicity's a good kid, but she's not cut out to be a Ranger! This is what happens when you start pulling pilots out of J-Tech!" Oliver watches Felicity's face fall before hardening into an impassive mask, and never before has he wanted to punch something so badly. "I'm _not_ going to work with those two—they're a liability in the field!"

The door cracks open slightly, enough for him to hear Sara say in a firm tone, "Ollie and Felicity are both good Rangers, Dad. At one point, they would have been good _together_ , but they're at different points in their careers." Her voice hardens as she continues, "Ollie has been through a lot—more than anyone should have to face. God only knows what it must have felt like to lose his co-pilot and still be linked. He may not want to admit it, but it's time for him to hang up the Drivesuit. But Felicity's just getting started with her career. If they had met two years ago, they would have been _unstoppable_."

"There was _nothing_ happening to that Jaeger!" Lance retorts. "If they can't hold it together for a _trial run_ , what makes you think they'll be able to keep it together when they're battling a Kaiju?! Those two are are gonna get us all killed if you put them in the field. I _will not_ work with those two, John—they're a nightmare waiting to happen! Queen should have been booted after he botched things with his second partner."

Oliver tenses at the words and their implications, deciding his shoes are more interesting. Things with Slade went to hell because of Oliver's short relationship with Shado, and it's one of those many things he wishes he could take back. But, as much as he hates what it did to Slade, part of that path lead him here to Felicity, and he can't be sorry about that.

While he gets lost in his thoughts, Felicity charges forward, rolling her shoulders. Before he can attempt to stop her (or at least slow her down somewhat), she pushes the door open. The only face Oliver can see is Lance's, and his expression is priceless. "Excuse me, Marshal," she starts, turning her attention to Digg, "but I thought we could at least be allowed to defend ourselves before you made any decisions." She turns, smiling sweetly at Lance in a way that manages to turn Oliver's blood cold. "I'd hate to think that a few vocal Rangers made your decisions for you."

Before anyone else can speak, she rounds on Lance, the older man paling a little. "While I appreciate your opinion as a _former_ Marshal, Mr. Lance," the blonde allows, "your opinions happen to be based on facts that aren't true." She waves a hand out wildly. "What we did in there defies the laws of everything we know about the Drift! And, with respect, you and Hilton have been piloting a Jaeger for the better part of the last decade, and you two have maxed your alignment at ninety-one-nine. Oliver and I just pulled a ninety-seven-two on a first Drift." She crosses her arms. "I might have been"—she makes _air quotes_ —"'pulled out of J-Tech,' but I think that makes me as much a Ranger as _you_."

Lance opens his mouth—probably to backtrack, based on his fondness for her—but Felicity doesn't let him. "And Oliver is a fantastic Ranger—he has the medals and accolades to prove it. What happened today is between us and the Marshal." She turns on the group of Rangers. "I'm sorry every one of you is more concerned about a single Jaeger than an _entire swarm_ of Kaiju coming through the Rift, but I don't think that gives you the right to pass judgment about what happened out there today. Everyone _in this room_ has made a drastic mistake in a Jaeger, and yet _you're_ still piloting."

A hush falls over the room. Rochev is the first to leave, storming out. Nyssa follows her, as does Laurel. At least Sara has the decency of murmuring an apology—to both Felicity _and_ Oliver—but Lance just grumbles and cuts them both dark looks.

Deciding it's probably safe, Oliver enters the Marshal's office, stopping to squeeze Felicity's wrist in a gesture of thanks. She returns it, and Diggle's eyes fly to the motion with an enigmatic look on his face. "I went out of alignment first," Oliver offers before Diggle can even begin speaking. "This was my fault—Felicity did everything she was supposed to." He sighs. "I… I saw what happened the last time I was in a Jaeger, and I threw us. You shouldn't punish her for this."

"I have no intention to," Diggle declares. Oliver's eyebrows rise. Turning to Felicity, he continues, "You did well for your first Drift, Miss Smoak." His eyes narrow ever so slightly. "Your sudden outburst notwithstanding." If he expects her to look repentant, he's sorely disappointed.

Digg turns back to Oliver. "But you, Mr. Queen…" Oliver's stomach plummets. He knows where this is going. "Your insubordination today saved Miss Smoak's life, but it does raise some issues about putting you in the field. In addition, your anxiety attack last week coupled with today's flashback tells me that a Jaeger is the _last_ place you need to be." He sighs. "I've watched the Drift take a mental toll on a lot of pilots, and I think that your skills aren't worth the cost of your sanity."

"With respect, Marshal," Oliver interjects, "I disagree."

Diggle snorts. "I know you do, Oliver. You're a good Ranger, but you need to get your head on straight before you get back in a Jaeger again. I'm not saying your piloting days are over, but I think you need some time with a therapist before I clear you to pilot again. I won't lose any more Rangers than I have to, and sending you out there with a rookie like this would be suicide for _both_ of you." He nods toward Felicity. "And while you might be willing to risk your life, are you really prepared to risk hers?"

It's an argument Oliver can't fight. If he goes into a spiral when faced with a Kaiju, it could put her in more danger than ever. Again, the brief moment of thinking she might be dead goes through his mind, and he knows that he could never forgive himself for doing it now.

"So that's it?" Felicity demands. Unlike him, she doesn't try to stand on ceremony when she lashes out at the Marshal. Somehow it makes her twice as intimidating, though Diggle doesn't flinch. "One _amazing_ Drift with a bad ending, and you're giving up?" She steps forward. "John, we did the _impossible_ out there today! Do you not realize what we could be capable of out there? But it didn't go according to plan, so now you're done. You're grounding us, just like that?"

"Not you," Digg corrects. He crosses his arms. "I held you back for so many years when all you wanted was to pilot. Today, you got your chance, and you showed me what a mistake it was to stop you. The Green Arrow is yours—you know it better than anyone. We will hold a combat trial and you'll be able to find a new Drift partner."

As happy as he is for her, Oliver still feels that overwhelming need to hit, throw, kick, or otherwise do violent things to inanimate objects. At this point, he's no longer sure if it's her anger fueling his own, or if the reverse is true. All he knows is that, if he waits much longer, the Marshal's mahogany desk might be forfeit, or he might break his hand against the steel walls of the bunker. "Permission to be dismissed, Marshal?"

Digg softens ever so slightly. "Oliver—"

"Permission to be dismissed, sir?" he asks again, this time gritting his teeth. The room is suddenly too small and standing in place does nothing for the furious energy. If he doesn't leave soon, there's no telling what he'll say or do. They already see him as unstable and wild, and throwing a few things won't help him get back into a Jaeger.

This time, Diggle seems to understand. "Permission granted, Ranger," he agrees with a nod.

He practically runs for the door, weaving his way through the hallways to the lower level and the abandoned rooms down there. It's a maze of rusty steel walls with peeling paint, even more so than the levels above. It's as though it's been forgotten by the Shatterdome's staff, but Oliver remembers. It used to be an important place to him.

The doors haven't even been outfitted with electronic locks like the upper level, and so he has to turn the wheel to unlock it. With trepidation, he opens the door and flips the switch. The lights flicker to life but then stay alight, and everything appears to be where he left it. Oliver breathes a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding as the targets on the back wall are illuminated. _This_ feels like coming home.

Though part of him itches to go to the cabinet and start taking out his frustrations on the paper targets on the back wall, a larger part of him needs to release some energy fast. Though he knows he should wrap his knuckles, he makes a run at the punching back in one corner, hitting it as hard as he can. It swings violently, the chains holding it to the ceiling groaning in protest. A yell rips from his throat in sheer frustration as he hits the bag again—over and over.

He knew this would happen. Another punch hits the bag. _This_ was why he didn't want back in a Jaeger: he's a disaster that takes down everything in his path. When he hits the bag this time, it leaves blood on the dingy, white burlap. He doesn't care. So many co-pilots have died by his side that a part of him—admittedly, the irrational part—thinks he's cursed or unlucky. This time the contact with the bag stings, but he doesn't let up. Nearly everyone he's ever cared for has died by his side—or in his head. His knuckles burn, but Oliver made his peace with pain long ago.

He almost _killed_ her today.

This time he doesn't punctuate the thought with another swing, stopping to catch his breath and studying the grimy concrete floor beneath his feet. Sweat drips off his forehead and chin, and he can do nothing more than watch it hit the floor as his thoughts cut straight to the chase—as usual. This isn't about being benched from the _one damn thing_ he's ever been good at, nor is it about the fact that he'd sell what little is left of his soul to fight a Kaiju again. This is about Felicity, about the fact that he knew this would happen and put his selfish desire above her life.

His father once said that Oliver knew how to pilot a Jaeger, but that he never really understood the camaraderie of the Drift. Before, he argued the fact, but now, he isn't so sure. His father died for him. He took everything from Slade but his life. Maseo died for Oliver's own pursuit of glory, and Tommy lost his life because of his partner's insubordination. Now, that volatile hope that makes him so dangerous nearly claimed Felicity, too.

With a nod to himself, Oliver decides that he is _done_ watching people die for him.

Now armed with a sense of calm and a set of bloodied knuckles, he turns to one of the few locked cabinets in the room. Inside, he finds the array of bows and handmade arrows he left here two years ago, the ones he didn't bother to retrieve when he took his bag and walked out of the hospital ward. Today, more than ever, he's glad he left them; he can think of no better way to release the last of his pent-up frustration.

Knowing part of the irritation lingering in his calm is Felicity's doesn't seem to make it any easier to handle. He realized she was passionate, of course, but he never knew how much fury and irritation she let build within herself before she decided to release it. Whatever she's doing now—probably still arguing with Digg—makes him twitchy and he finds a new desire to hit the punching bag again.

Instead, he fills the quiver full of arrows and grabs the old yet familiar bow, moving to the white line with the _100_ mark, drawing first to feel the familiar pull of muscles in his arm. Releasing the string, he reaches for an arrow, nocks it and fires within a few heartbeats. He can barely see the center of the target from one hundred yards, but it's definitely close to center. Oliver can't stop the smile that forms slowly on his lips; two years away, and it's like no time has passed at all.

In some ways, it's more comfortable than getting back in a Jaeger.

Time seems to stand still as he takes shots at the back wall. At first, he has to stay in motion to work off some of the fury, but then the archery seems to calm him with its repetitive nature. Eventually he stands in place, taking slow, methodical shots. Nock, draw, inhale, aim, release, exhale. It's an easy, natural set of motions, just like breathing. Draw, inhale. Release, exhale. After so many years, it's a mindless activity, one that allows him to act without thinking or trying. He just _does_ it, and it makes little difference to him if he hits the target every time—even though he does.

He has no idea how long he's been there when he feels someone behind him, nor does he know how long _she's_ been there. Felicity must be as content and at peace as he is, though, because she doesn't try to interrupt his routine. After using two quivers' worth of arrows on the targets, he stops, turning back to her with sweat trickling down his throat.

"I had no idea this place was down here," she admits, filling the silence. Her eyes flit around the space, taking in the room. "In fact, I'm not even sure _how_ I knew to come here."

"We're Ghosting," is Oliver's explanation. It causes her eyebrows to knit together, so he explains more clearly, "It's what we call Ghost-Drifting."

"One of the side effects of Drifting," Felicity mutters, nodding as though she's speaking to herself. "A connection that lasts after the Drift, right?" She frowns at him. "I didn't see this memory when we were in the Drift. I guess we aren't fully linked yet—or Ghosting, for that matter." She waves a hand. "Although… we shouldn't be Ghosting at all, not after one Drift." With a laugh, she adds, "Not that we've ever followed the rules before." Her head tilts to the side. "It's weird that you can feel me—in your head, I mean. Not in any other way. I can't really feel you— _mentally_ feel you. I hope that doesn't mean I'm not Ghosting and you are. My thoughts are always scrambled, and it would probably be distracting."

Placing the bow on one of the tables, Oliver walks up to her with a partial smile. "You just don't know how to recognize it yet," he assures her. "There's no such thing as a one-way street in the Drift, and I could feel you feeding off my anger in Digg's office." Standing in front of her, he suggests, "Close your eyes." She does, even if she does study him with a bemused expression first. "Quiet your mind and tell me what you feel."

"Cold," she answers, rubbing her arms. "Seriously, you could hang meat in here. Not that meat is a common commodity anymore. It's like a giant freezer or something." He chuckles, and she uses her hands to explain, "This part of the Shatterdome has been sealed off for the last two years. I'm surprised they even have electricity down here anymore. I guess they shut off the heat. That would make sense—"

When he catches her hands in the air, Felicity cuts off abruptly. Slowly, he returns her hands to her sides, perhaps lingering a moment too long in her touch. "It's a different kind of feel, Felicity," is Oliver's explanation. Cradling her head in his hands, he lets his thumbs graze her temples with a feather-light set of touches. "Tell me what you feel in _here_."

Closing his own eyes, Oliver concentrates on nothing but the feel of Felicity's hair under his fingertips, letting all else fade away. He's Drifted before and he's more susceptible to the Ghost-Drift now, so it doesn't take long before he can feel her growing impatience against the back of his mind. A flicker of amusement goes through him. "You've excelled at too many things, Felicity," he decides in a low voice, feeling her jolt of surprise and then familiar comfort at his voice. "Now that you can't feel the Ghost at the back of your mind, you're impatient."

She shakes her head, probably forgetting that his hands are still on her. "Maybe you're more familiar with the Drift and you're more susceptible to it," she suggests aloud, unknowingly snatching the thought from his mind. That sentence alone proves her one-way-street theory wrong. "I might just need a few more Drifts before I recognize what's going on in my head. I should—"

Though Felicity moves to leave, Oliver doesn't let her. "What did I tell you today?" he asks her in a quiet voice. Even without looking, he knows her eyes are on him and that her mouth is slightly parted. The quieter it is, the further his mind slides into hers. It's an interesting side-effect of the Drift; in some ways, the two pilots become one—even without a Drivesuit or a neural handshake. "The Drift is silence, remember? The Ghost is the same way. Try again."

This time the flare of irritation at the back of his mind is aimed at him, and he smiles anyway. He can feel Felicity square her shoulders, preparIng herself as if she's going into battle. It makes him laugh before pressing his forehead against hers. "It isn't a war, Felicity," he breathes with a laugh. She doesn't respond, but he can feel her irritation and impatience start to fade.

He can feel it the moment she latches onto his consciousness. Her reach is tentative and subtle, as if it could disappear at any moment. Despite the soft touch, it sends a spark into his mind that wasn't there before, a jolt of… _something_ passing between them. "There you are," Felicity breathes out with a laugh, her voice just above a whisper. "No wonder I couldn't feel you—you're so quiet. I don't know how you can stand me—I must be so loud in your head."

 _And in my ears, too_ , he teases her, allowing their Ghost-Drift to speak for him. She slaps his shoulder in response, and he laughs. _But I prefer it that way. It's nice having someone in my head again. When you lose the Drift, it's like losing a part of yourself._

Her thoughts rush into a chaotic jumble that would surprise Oliver if _she_ could decipher them. The ability to transmit lines of clear thought is one that comes with time and experience—the only two things he has on her. "I can't imagine doing this with anyone else," she confesses in a whisper. "It's so deeply personal to have someone inside your head." He feels her wave a hand, unsurprised when it lands between his neck and his jaw.

She rubs circles into his jaw with her thumb, the action both foreign and familiar. _The deeper the bond, the better you fight_ , he recites to Felicity. It's an old adage of the Drift, something they've both heard a thousand times. It's why they've insisted that siblings make the best pilots. Today, though, he adds something to it, one of the best kept secrets of the Ranger Corps: _To let someone in and really connect, you have to_ trust _them. That's why the Drift was so strong: the deeper the bond, the better you fight._

 _I guess that means we'd be unstoppable_ , she responds. The rest of her thoughts follow, even though the last thing she means to do is add them: _But I guess we'll never find out_. There's so much sorrow in that phrase, so much longing. It hits him twice as hard as it would have before, his longing mixing with hers as they mourn for something that will never be.

"I requested to go back to J-Tech," she declares, her voice loud in the otherwise quiet room. As if she can't say the words aloud, she adds, _John wanted to throw me in the ring with another partner—anyone I wanted to Drift with._ Though her right hand stays in place on his neck, her left brushes across his face, following the line of his cheekbone with the reverence of an artist sculpting clay. _I told him the one I want just walked out the door._ She snorts. _And he had the audacity to tell me to think about it_.

 _Don't throw away your career because of me, Felicity_ , Oliver answers. He only hopes she can feel how serious he is about this. _They're finally starting to give you the attention you deserve._ He can feel her obstinance building, can tell by the tone of her mind that she's going to argue. _You've worked so hard to get to the point_. And, God, has she; he watched Felicity's struggles, just as clearly as she watched his. _I want you to at least consider going back_.

She pulls back and opens her eyes, and Oliver can feel that complete yet fragile link between them shatter. Because he doesn't have the luxury of knowing her innermost thoughts any longer, it surprises him when her lips brush against his forehead. "I hate it when you're reasonable," she declares, breaking what little remained of their link. He doesn't know what to say to her now; words always fail him. How can he carry on a mundane conversation with someone who knows every part of him? Their eyes lock, and for a moment, nothing at all is said.

After Drifting with someone, no words are needed.

Felicity leaves him to his contemplative mood, walking over to the table where he placed his bow. She pulls on the string a little, but with his draw weight, it doesn't go far. "So, archery?" she asks. Oliver nods, though there isn't any reason to. "No offense, but it's always seemed really ridiculous to me. I don't understand the point."

He walks up to her, taking the bow from her hands. "There isn't one," he assures her. "It helps me think, helps me relax."

"It looked like you're pretty good at it," she declares. Her eyes narrow as they focus on the locker, and she reaches in to pull out a few tennis balls in a plastic container. "I haven't seen any of these since my mom signed up for lessons with a tennis instructor." She rolls her eyes. "Not that my mom cared about tennis—she thought the instructor was hot." Holding them up, she tilts her head to the side. "Don't tell me you're a tennis guy."

Picking his bow up from the table, he nods to the container. "Throw one and find out," he suggests with a smirk. She does so, and, easy as breathing, he nocks an arrow and fires into the tennis ball. Felicity already has another one in hand, her eyes wide as she stares at the ball with the arrow in it. Unable to resist, he fires another arrow, this time into the tennis ball in her hand.

She jumps and drops it, but her mouth slowly turns into a smile in response to his own grin. "I can do that every time," he promises her, perhaps a little too cocky for his own good.

"Show-off," she accuses with a teasing smile. "But you _are_ pretty impressive with that—even if you almost took my hand off." Her eyes drop to his own hands, and she frowns. When Oliver follows her gaze, he catches sight of his own bloodied knuckles for the first time. Because the skin is raw and they're starting to bruise, they probably look worse to her than they are.

Her eyes narrow as she takes in the punching bag in the corner, and for the moment, the best thing about being in her head is that he can anticipate the coming onslaught. Scrambling for anything to say to stop it, he somehow manages to get out, "I forgot to wrap my hands."

The look Felicity gives him is the kind that makes him think that, even if they weren't Ghosting, she'd _still_ be able to see right through him. She tilts her head to the side as she sighs, crossing her arms. In the back of his mind, Oliver can feel her trying to calm her irritation, but the hint of amusement at the corners gives him hope that he won't be on the receiving end of her ire today.

They stare at each other for a moment, but finally she sighs and unfreezes, dropping the rest of the tennis balls on the table as she walks up to him. With slow motions, Felicity peels his fingers from the bow, placing it on the table as well. She pulls his hand into both of hers, running her thumbs along his bloodied knuckles. "I think I have a first-aid kit up in J-Tech for emergencies," she says with an air of defeat. "I know how you hate med teams—I can patch you up, if you want." She pokes Oliver's shoulder. "But just this once."

Her gaze flickers back to the bow on the table, and his eyes widen slightly as she picks it up, staring at it with studious eyes. Slowly she grips it in her hands as if she's preparing to use it, pulling back tentatively on the string. Her stance is all wrong and she seems to hesitate with it. Something about the sight gives him the image of a kitten discovering its claws for the first time.

"I always thought these things would seem more dangerous than they are," she muses aloud, and Oliver isn't sure if she's talking to him or herself. "That pistol Lance carries always seems so ominous, and the only reason I picked up the staff was because it was the only way to be a pilot."

Unable to resist, Oliver replies with a smile, "It's not dangerous when you hold it like that." As she shoots him a withering glance, he pulls her left arm out to full length, pulling the bow further away from her body. It makes her eyes focus on him instead of the bow, mouth parting slightly. He dismisses the observation by pushing her right elbow up higher, his left hand wrapping around Felicity's so that she grips it a fraction tighter before stepping back to admire his handiwork. "That's better."

Her face flushes slightly for reasons he doesn't understand, and her thoughts are a chaotic tangle of emotion that he can't decipher for clarification. She pulls the draw back a little again, this time testing the new stance. She even keeps her elbow up, Oliver can't help but notice. Finally she asks, "So am I dangerous now?"

He grins. "I don't think you ever needed a bow for that."

* * *

 _Playlist:_

 _"Goodbye Agony" - Black Veil Brides_  
 _"The Show Must Go On" - Queen_  
 _"Dark Nights" - Dorothy_  
 _"Lost in Paradise" - Evanescence_  
 _"The Arena" - Lindsey Stirling_  
 _"Something Wild" - Lindsey Stirling feat. Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness_


	6. Resurgence

**Chapter: 6 - Resurgence  
Word Count: 6401**

 **Notes:** Hello, all! In case you were wondering, I survived a crazy-as-hell week at work. I haven't answered all your lovely reviews yet, but I'm working on it.

I'm really excited about sharing this chapter with y'all. This has to be my favorite one in the entire fic, so I'm looking forward to seeing your responses to it. If you just want to read, I appreciate that, too! Thank you! :)

* * *

As he watches Thea and McKenna go at each other in the training ring, he knows this option isn't going to work for her either. He remembers Digg saying something about McKenna being too soft for Felicity, and the same seems to hold true for Thea. His sister attacks with a merciless brutality he didn't expect when he threw her in the ring for her first fight. It's been three months since he selected her for the ring the first time, and it gave him something to focus on beside his own failure to Drift. The least he can do is give his sister that chance.

The memory of that disaster three months ago—when he nearly killed Felicity—sours his mood, making his mouth turn down in a frown. Some days it's harder to accept that his his job is to train novice Rangers because he had that taste of possibility. He can't pretend nothing happened because that Drift was _everything_. Despite that, he's still training potential Rangers and Felicity is still sighing over her designs of Jaegers while dreaming of something more.

She tries to hide it, but it's impossible to keep secrets from someone you've Drifted with.

Because he knows thinking about it will only make it worse, he turns to his assistant. Sin is typically quiet and task-oriented, but somehow they've managed a professional friendship—albeit a sometimes rocky one. "This isn't going to work out, is it?" he asks her, motioning between the two sparring partners. As if to emphasize his point, Thea takes that moment to put an elbow in McKenna's stomach. It puts her down, allowing his sister to put the poor woman at the end of the staff.

The teenager scoffs. "It's going about as well as my only date with a guy," she replies with a frown, eyes never leaving the match. "As much as I like to watch beautiful women kick ass—especially Thea—I'm not sure McKenna will be able to walk again if you let this go on." Sin shrugs. "Not to tell you how to do your job."

Nodding once, he calls out, "That's enough." Both women turn to look at him, and Thea opens her mouth to protest. Oliver doesn't let her. "Finding a Drift partner isn't about _winning_ , Thea. It's about finding someone who presents a challenge, who compliments your style." He motions between the two of them. "And you two don't work."

After three months of trying unsuccessful partners, he's starting to think that Thea is just as much of an oddity to the Drift as he is. All of the logical candidates have failed, and he's running out of options. According to Digg, two new Jaeger designs have been approved for construction, which means two new sets of pilots need to be ready for a trial run. Because Felicity made their Marshal feel terrible about stopping the Green Arrow's resurgence, he even promised Oliver that Thea could have a shot at one of them.

Provided they can find her a Drift partner, of course.

Running a hand over his face, he calls out, "Grant." Ted Grant turns to face him, eyebrows narrowed in confusion. He isn't the only one; Sin arches an eyebrow at him and Thea's face contorts in disbelief. To her, Oliver explains, "The obvious choice isn't working, Speedy. We need to switch this up some."

"For the love of God, Ollie," she growls with a sigh, "would you _please_ stop calling me 'Speedy'?" She waves around the room, full of Drift pilots and wannabes. "It's hard for people to take me seriously if my brother is still calling me by a nickname he gave me when I was five."

He wants to retort that he is a veteran Jaeger pilot, but yet she calls him _Ollie_. Before he can, the kid with the Kaiju tattoos—the kid who's gotten awfully cozy with Speedy over the last four months—laughs. "It's accurate," he counters. "You have to be one of the fastest people on these mats. Maybe that's what they should name your Jaeger. 'Speedy' has a nice ring to it."

For the first time, Oliver doesn't immediately dismiss the kid's words. He might be automatically inclined to dislike anyone who presents a romantic interest in his sister, but Roy's observation hints at a critical eye for Drift partner combat. He's in the training area almost as often as Oliver himself, but yet the kid never steps foot on the mats.

As Thea grudgingly relents to the fight, the veteran Ranger turns to the kid in the red hoodie. Though he's seen Harper almost daily for the last four months, he realizes he knows nothing about him. "Have you ever thought about taking a turn in the ring?" Oliver asks.

" _Me?_ " Roy answers immediately, brow furrowing. It's followed by an immediate shake of his head, and the remnant of a smile left on his face from teasing Thea slips away. "I just like to watch the fights. I've listened to Blondie babble on about Drift mechanics for years. I don't get the science, but I _do_ get two people beating the hell out of each other." He shrugs. "Not that I want to pilot one of those things anyway. I'm no hero."

The words startle a laugh out of Oliver. Finally he understands why he initially wanted to hate the kid. "I said the same thing when my dad right before he threw me into the ring the first time," he admits. Roy's eyebrows shoot up, and, out of the corner of his eye, he watches Sin's eyes leave the ring for the first time since they started today. "He reminded me that Drift compatibility is rare. He said it's a gift and, if I could Drift, I had a responsibility to use it."

Roy is quiet for a moment, his expression distant as though pondering that. Finally he asks, "What did you tell him?"

"I think my exact words were 'go to Hell,'" Oliver responds with a grin. Harper returns it slowly. "I wasn't easy to get along with in those days." He ignores Thea's comment of _still aren't_ from the ring, in between matching blows with Grant. "Neither was he. Before we learned to Drift together, most of our fights took place outside the ring."

There's a soft touch to his shoulder, and a small hand curls around his arm. Even without looking, he knows who it is, and it makes him lock his arm a little tighter around hers. "To be fair," Felicity allows, "you were kind of an asshole back then, and I think he knew that you could do something more with your life than wreck Maseratis."

Everyone else seems surprised by her statement, but she's been inside his head. Of course she knows all the gory details about his life—just as he does hers. Usually there's an unspoken agreement between co-pilots of _what happens in the Drift stays in the Drift_ , but it isn't the first time she's mentioned it. Oliver doesn't mind; she never mentions the traumatic memories, and there's never any judgment in her voice.

"This coming from the woman who hacked into the Pentagon for fun when she was fifteen," he counters with a smile, turning to face her. Though Felicity tries her best to throw him a scathing look, the slight uptick of those fuchsia lips softens it somewhat. Knocking his shoulder against hers, he asks, "Did you come to find a Drift partner?"

He's been trying to convince her for three months to try again as a Ranger, but she's probably the only person on the planet more stubborn than he is. Even Diggle has been trying to wear her down, all to no avail. In fact, he thinks _she_ might be wearing _them_ down. "I already have one," Felicity replies, the smile slipping off her face as her lips press together in a thin line. Despite that, she still nudges him with her shoulder, returning his gesture.

"Felicity…" he starts, but pulls to a halt. It isn't a look or her words that stop him; the irritation bleeding through their connection makes him close his mouth. They've had this conversation countless times, but it only seems to result in shouting matches that Diggle has to break up and headaches for both of them. He doesn't want to begin that again today, not when he's barely seen her in the last week.

"They finally released me from the dungeon," Felicity says with a partial smile. "I finally managed to convince everyone that my designs were our best option, so I thought I would reward myself by watching combat trials." She pulls a folded set of papers out of the pocket of her jumpsuit. "We approved the construction of two new Jaegers. I have designs for you to look at." With an eye roll, she adds as she pockets the papers again, "But they're digital because, apparently, the nuclear reactor in the Green Arrow is dangerous. Not as dangerous as an EMP during a Kaiju attack—ten-million-dollar equipment turned into really impressive statues."

She continues further into the science of it, and while he tries to listen, Oliver doesn't understand a bit of what she's saying. He nods anyway, letting her explain while throwing the hand _not_ on his arm around so wildly that Sin has to dodge to avoid being hit in the face. It brings a smile to his lips to watch her speak so passionately about something that probably no one in the room understood when she said it in the meeting.

Diggle wasn't kidding the first day they met: it takes an incredible person to keep up with Felicity Smoak.

When the blonde finishes her speech, the motion of Sin shaking her head catches Oliver's attention out of the corner of his vision. Pointedly, she meets Roy's eyes as she says, "Remember when that rumor started and you asked me how everyone got it so wrong? _This_ is how."

"What rumor?" Oliver asks.

The feel of the room changes faster than if he had argued with Felicity over her nuclear… thing. Roy makes a hasty exit while muttering something about Barry, and Sin suddenly finds her clipboard to be the most interesting thing in the world. Even Felicity won't look at him, a dusting of pink slowly creeping across her face. When she pulls her arm out of his, the loss of contact makes it harder for him to feel her mind through Ghosting.

Sin is the first to break, rolling her eyes as she explains, "After you two Drifted for your trial run and never went into the field, everyone started wondering why." It's one of the best-kept secrets of the Shatterdome; usually the gossip spreads faster than a live update from Channel 52, but Diggle is the only one who knows the details.

The teenager shrugs. "You know how it is around here: if there isn't a story, someone will make one up and air it around the Shatterdome. The two of you seemed to Drift well, but they didn't clear you and Marshal Diggle acted like nothing ever happened. Because Felicity is beautiful and you have a bit of a reputation, they seem to think you're together romantically." She waves a hand. "Or having sex or whatever. I don't really get the whole sex thing."

Oliver glances between her and Felicity to make sure he heard that right. The blonde still won't look at him, and he releases a breath as it hits him. She knew about this. She knew and she didn't try to correct them or explain the _true_ reason why they failed. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and elected to take the whispers and rumors—and didn't want him to know about it. She chose to protect him—not to throw it in his face later, but because she _wanted_ to.

It might be one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for him.

When she finally meets his eyes, Oliver has no idea what to say to her. Words have never been his strength, and now they've failed him entirely. Instead of grasping for words, he simply places his hand on her shoulder. Between the gesture, his expression, and the Ghost that builds at the contact, he hopes she can decipher it.

The slight smile that follows lets him know she does. Responding to Sin's explanation, she says, "People are going to believe what they want. As long as I continue to do my job to the best of my ability, what I do is none of anyone's business."

While Felicity might want to protect him, he feels the need to protect her, too, even if it is from something so insignificant as a reputation. "The reason we aren't Drifting is me," he explains to Sin. "I'm a risk because I don't Drift right anymore. I'd be a danger in the field, so I'm benched." He cuts his partner a look, and Felicity's eyes narrow before he can even get the words out. "Felicity could go again, but she refuses to find another partner."

She's unapologetic when she turns to a wide-eyed Sin. "Oliver and I pulled a ninety-seven-two on our first Drift. That's a game-changer. And it isn't something you throw away because of a little red tape."

Though he'd classify Diggle banning him from a Jaeger because it nearly killed her as more than _a little red tape_ , a smile crosses his face anyway. Felicity returns it with a wink, and they say nothing because their emotions speak for them.

Sirens cut through the moment, sending everyone into red alert. Oliver takes a moment to glance at Felicity and then they're both running toward the control tower. Diggle is already there, nodding to him as Felicity takes her seat and one of the computers. "Sit rep," the Ranger instructor calls to them.

"Two signatures emerging from the Rift," Cooper answers. They've grown more receptive of his command since he started regularly coordinating successful Jaeger defenses. So far, they've deployed the Jaegers three times against Kaiju, and three times they've been successful without storming Starling City. "Codenamed Otachi and Leatherback, both Category Four. We have three Jaegers ready to go: Romeo Blue, Striker Eureka, and Black Canary. Otachi confirmed to have flight capability."

It's easy to formulate a plan of what to do. All three Jaegers are deployed in the Breach from bays near the sighting. Two Category Fours with three Jaegers should be impossible, but he's seen them do more with less.

The fight seems to be going in their favor when the other shoe drops. "What the hell is that?" Felicity demands, pointing a sapphire blue fingernail in the direction of the HUD in front of her. Before Oliver can do more than get a good look at it, the screen fizzles out—along with pretty much everything. Slowly the control tower goes dark.

"Miss Smoak, I need a situation report," Diggle calls out in the darkness. Despite their lack of lighting and the general sense that everything is going to hell in a handbasket, he remains oddly calm.

"I'm grabbing the back-up gear, John, but it's kind of hard to find the kit while we're temporarily in the City of Ember." No one responds for a moment, and Oliver can _feel_ her rolling her eyes. "In the world of endless night, ladies and gentlemen. Give me a moment."

There are some exclamations of surprise that cause Felicity to reply _sorry_ , but finally a faint, yellow light casts a glow on Felicity and her corner of her room. With an ancient-looking radio in her hand, she yells into it, "This is tower control calling Canary, Romeo, or Striker. What the hell is going on out there? We just went dark."

Laurel is staticky when she responds. "There was a circular discharge of some sort from Leatherback and we went dark. The Kaiju left us here to start rampaging in the city."

Felicity swears in Mandarin—a skill Oliver didn't even know she had. Maybe she picked it up from him. "Barry _warned_ us about this," she declares out of nowhere. "He _told_ us that they weren't dumb beasts." She turns to the Marshal. "They're _adapting_ , John. That had to have been an EMP. They're studying us the same way we're studying them, which is why they just threw out an _EMP_ at us."

"How long will it take to get things running again?" he asks instead.

She shrugs. "Control tower is Coop's baby, not mine." She turns toward her ex expectantly.

"We'd have to re-wire every electronic in the place, Marshal," Cooper responds. "It will take thirty minutes just to re-route the power source, and then we'd have to plug everything back up. Maybe two hours?"

"That's not fast enough," Diggle answers.

Oliver and Felicity exchange glances, and he can feel her enough through their Ghost that he knows they're thinking the same thing. "Marshal," he starts in a low tone, "the Green Arrow has a nuclear reactor. She's analog, not digital. The EMP can't take her down the way it can the others."

Digg sighs. "Oliver, I'm not putting you two in a Jaeger again," he declares. "The last time you two got in a Jaeger…" He trails off and the others seem to pay more attention. "Both of you nearly died that day."

Felicity takes a few steps forward. "If you _don't_ put us in the Arrow," she counters, "an _entire city_ is going to die _today_. Potentially two lives versus millions, John. That isn't a hard call." She crosses her arms. "In two hours, Starling City is going to be a _parking lot_. We're the only defense you _have_ right now."

It's clear he doesn't like it, but he points to the emergency kit. "Mr. Seldon, get the emergency backup system online so we can have some light in here. Mr. Ramon, take a lamp and get these two in Drivesuits. We need them in the Green Arrow _yesterday_."

Cisco does as he asks, leading them down to the Drivesuit room in relative darkness. Felicity throws Oliver his circuitry suit from a locker that he thinks might be hers, already shedding her jumpsuit on the floor unceremoniously. He turns to pull his own on, and a team fits them in their respective armor shells with a speed and efficiency that resembles a NASCAR pit crew.

In twenty, minutes, they're docked in their bays of the cockpit. Felicity reaches for the controls between them with an ease he's never seen. "It's a good thing I included manual Drift controls in this thing," she comments to him. After pressing a button for the comm, she adds, "Hey, John, do you remember when you told me manual Drift controls were a bad idea?"

"You can gloat later, Miss Smoak," Digg replies tersely. "Millions of lives are on the line."

"She's multitasking," Oliver informs him while smiling at his partner. "She's trying to initiate the Drift _and_ gloating at the same time." Felicity grins back, though she's focused on wires. Through the Ghost, he can feel her emotions jump all over the board, mirroring his own. The one she seems to focus on, though, is complete elation. That definitely wasn't his primary emotion going into his first Kaiju fight.

Felicity finally looks up at him, and they share a grin. No words are needed because they already know what the other is thinking. All those moments of wishing for this, of wanting to see what they could do together. For three months, Oliver wrote it off as a pipe dream, but now they're here. They may never get this chance again, but he's wanted to fight a Kaiju with Felicity for every damn call-out in the last three months.

"Initiating neural handshake," she informs the tower before flipping the switch.

Entering the Drift isn't pretty, but, then again, it never is. Oliver can feel himself trying to grab a breath, to normalize through the series of his own horrible memories. They trap him at times, but finally he makes it through the assault of old nightmares—the kind that aren't imagination, but are _real_.

From Felicity's thoughts alone, he knows he went out of alignment. Her concern for him is clear, but he sends her a quiet assurance that he's fine. "Ready for launch," is all he says, speaking to the support team.

As they give the orders to launch, Felicity whispers to him, "Is it weird that I'm a little nervous about this? I've never wanted anything else, and now that I'm here, I'm scared."

In spite of the seriousness of the question, Oliver laughs, the action twisting her lips upward in a reflection of their link. "Felicity," he starts slowly, "we're about to take on two monsters the size of skyscrapers in a giant robot with no backup." He lets that sink in for a moment before adding, "If you weren't afraid, I'd be worried." After a moment, he whispers back, "I'm scared, too."

The machine shakes slightly as the helicopters attach docking cables, but Felicity breathes a sigh of relief instead of tensing. "I'm never sure if you're feeling something because you actually feel it, or if you're reflecting me," she admits. "You're so subtle that it's hard to tell sometimes. Except when you're mad. Because when you're angry, I know it because I have this sudden urge to go punch things. It's like being randomly attacked by bouts of PMS."

Because the conversation seems to be distracting her from her fears, Oliver remarks wryly, "Thanks to you, I know what that feels like now."

She winces as they fly them out to the middle of the ocean. "I'm still sorry about giving you mood swings, though." Wincing again, she corrects, "Actually, I'm more sorry for that fresh-faced friend of Thea's—Alex, right? He just wanted more time on the mats, preferably with Thea. He was out of line with what he said to her, but I don't think that justified throwing him in the ring with a stick and kicking his ass."

It wasn't one of Oliver's finer moments, truthfully, but the kid _made a pass_ at his _sister_ —an unwanted one, judging by the look on her face. It had earned him a dressing-down from Diggle later, but it had been worth it. "I'm a little protective of the people I care about," he admits quietly.

"Understatement of the century," Felicity remarks under her breath.

Before he can retort, he hears the signal that the helicopters are about to disengage. Though she's never done this before, his partner reaches for the HUD controls and starts bringing them to life. The shutter between them and the glass of the Jaeger's eyes slowly rises, showing the partially-decimated landscape of Starling below them. His heart sinks at the sight, wondering how many have already lost something in tonight's battle. Felicity's heart breaks a little, and his shatters right beside it. He's fought so long to protect this city, to prevent this kind of destruction. Felicity has _lived_ this scene before, and he can feel how deeply this assaults her. This is their worst nightmare come to life.

The moment doesn't last long because it simply can't. The helicopters release them hundreds of feet above the city, and they have to prepare for landfall. Felicity follows his instinct to brace, but he knows they released from too high and it's going to be a rough landing. Despite that, there's nothing to do but brace and hope the docking clamps hold despite the abuse.

Momentum sends them rushing forward as they hit the ground, the Arrow stumbling with them. There's a groan of metal as they come to a halt, but it sounds like it comes from within the cockpit itself. Out of instinct, Oliver throws a hand out to catch himself, with both Felicity and the Jaeger doing the same in response. Finally the movement slows, and he takes a breath of relief.

Pain explodes in his face, so bad that he can hardly breathe. His eyes start to water in response to the agony, and he has to lift the visor of his helmet to wipe at them. Oliver touches his face tentatively to see if he's broken something in the impact, but it takes him a moment longer to realize it isn't _his_ pain he's feeling.

Immediately he turns to look at Felicity, and he gapes in horror. Her visor is mostly in shards in the floor of the cockpit. Blood gushes from her face, and her watering eyes leave tracks of mascara down her face. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a long, mangled rod of metal. A docking clamp. It must have snapped with the weight of the impact, and with only the right one to hold her, it must have sent her swinging into the emergency control panel on her side of the cockpit.

Oliver calls her name in a panic, but she holds up the hand that isn't on her nose. "I just broke my nose," she answers in a nasal voice. Her tone is calm and controlled, as if her nose isn't pouring blood and he's the irrational one for voicing concern about it. She rips her helmet off and throws it into the floor despite his protests. "Now let's go teach Godzilla a lesson for attacking _our_ city."

"Felicity—" he starts to argue.

"You and I are all this city has to defend it right now," she practically growls at him, eyes narrowing. Blood and tears run down her face, but when mixed with that determination, it only serves to make her seem unstoppable. "I am _not_ going to watch anyone die just because my nose is a little busted." Even in the heat of the moment, Oliver can't help but appreciate her divine gift for understatement. He can see—and feel—the evidence, and _a little busted_ is like saying they have a minor Kaiju problem in Starling right now. Still, she's right. "I can still fight. You'll have to be my eyes until mine stop watering, but I can _do_ this."

Oliver nods once before turning to the control panel on his side of the cockpit. Selecting the plasma arrows from the weapons cache, he declares, "Let's go hunting." The bow-like sights come out of either side of the Green Arrow's right arm as the robotic voice informs them, _Plasma bow deployed_. Felicity holds it up the way she does when she shoots in the derelict room under the Shatterdome, and he nocks a charged shot, ready to deploy. While a part of him was concerned that they should have practiced, there's barely any effort involved in the motion.

It surprises him how easily the action comes to them. When the Green Arrow prototype was discussed, his mother nearly vetoed it because of the concept of a the plasma arrow: one powerful burst of charged particles, fired in much the same way as an arrow from a bow. Firing requires both pilots to work in tandem, however—something not easily accomplished. They said it could never be done, but Oliver and Tommy were willing to practice. It took them months, but eventually they learned how to work together to use a weapon more powerful than any to ever grace a Jaeger before theirs.

And yet he and Felicity are manipulating the bow like they've been Drifting together for years.

Through their connection he can feel how pleased she is with that. Smiling makes her nose throb painfully, but, to her, that rush of satisfaction is more than worth it. Oliver isn't as convinced, but he mirrors her grin anyway. They should never have had this moment, but yet they're here.

Breaking into a run, they push the Jaeger through the path of destruction in Starling, sighting the bow and turning the Green Arrow regularly, like a hunter stalking its prey. While his eyes are focused on the outline of Starling City, Felicity's remain on the HUD, tracking the Kaiju using electronics.

"Two o'clock!" she shouts suddenly, and both of them whirl the mech in time to watch the one they codenamed Leatherback come charging at them. Working as one, Felicity levels the Green Arrow's arm at the same time Oliver fires. In what is probably the luckiest shot of their lives, they manage to hit the Kaiju right between the eyes. It collapses on the spot.

Felicity crows, fist-pumping the air with her left arm. Because she's also the left hemisphere, the Arrow mimics the action, and her eyes widen a little when she realizes it. Oliver chuckles a little at the sudden burst of embarrassment that floods through their link. _I forgot—left hemisphere_ , she tells him sheepishly through their neural link.

He only smiles, studying the Kaiju a little longer. _Tower control can't read vitals for us right now_ , he notes, his mouth turning downward. _I think we should check for a pulse, just to be safe._

She doesn't miss a beat, going through her her side of the weapons cache with a nod. She selects the left plasma cannon with a press of her palm against the interface, the handheld HUD buzzing to life as she aims it. He expects one shot, or maybe two, but instead she fires the whole clip— _seven shots_ —into the Kaiju, the power of the blast separating skin from bone.

 _Who the hell messed with my designs?_ she asks, breathing out with a huff as she lowers the weapon. _I did_ not _make that automatic. And I know because I rechecked the blueprints for our test run._ She growls under her breath, and he has to bite his lip to keep from smiling. _Cooper's going to pay for this._

Pressing his lips together, Oliver simply answers, _I think it's safe to say it doesn't have a pulse_. The word she calls him in response is the kind that would make his mother stammer and declare her unladylike, but he just laughs at her colorful word choice. High from their first Kaiju kill, he adds, _Next time, try not to use an entire clip._

"Oliver Queen," she growls in a voice that he's certain has struck fear into the hearts of many. When she's truly angry, he counts himself among them, but right now, it's more like watching a house cat hiss at a mountain lion. "I am in control of heavy machinery. Do _not_ tempt me—"

Before she can finish the thought, a screeching goes through the air. The ground drops out from under them, and he makes sense of the situation at the same time Felicity does: _Otachi has flight capabilities—and, apparently, the ability to lift Jaegers off the ground._ He punches at it several times, but the Green Arrow's reach is too short.

While the rest of their experiences have felt familiar, this one doesn't. Never before has Oliver encountered a Kaiju that can fly, and he has no idea how to fight something with this kind of capability. The Arrow's weapons—all plasma—aren't designed to deal with enemies at close range. The only close-range weapons they have are the Jaeger's fists, and that isn't going to work here.

The Kaiju have adapted better than they have.

Just as he's about to suggest blowing both them and the Kaiju to hell, Felicity studies him with narrowed above a blood-covered nose and mouth. "Seriously?" she finally declares. "Oliver, this is _your_ Jaeger. More importantly, this is _my_ baby. Did you think I'd leave you unequipped to deal with a situation like this?"

Before he can answer, she flips through the weapons cache and slams down on the control panel. That helpful, robotic voice informs them, _Sword deployed_. He blinks twice; it must be a new addition because they didn't have that before.

Felicity snorts at the thought. "I installed this on the prototype," she corrects with a weary sigh. "If you didn't know about this, I have no idea how you survived fifty-one kills in her the last time around." She points at him with her right hand. "That's the _only_ problem with you, Oliver: you think like a fighter." She grins, and something about it looks sinister—maybe it's because of the broken nose. "It's time to start thinking like a technician."

With that, she performs a beautiful slice with the thirty-feet-long sword, cutting off the Kaiju's wing. It lets out a shriek before dropping them, both Jaeger and beast falling. The Arrow lands on her knees in the middle of the ocean, creating a tidal wave, but Otachi plunges into the water gushing blue blood.

When it emerges, it does so pissed off and screaming. While Felicity has the sword, Oliver is without a weapon, and he glances over to his HUD for anything he can use. It picks up a small cargo ship, and he reaches out for it, grabbing it by the stern.

While Felicity tries—unsuccessfully—to stab at the moving target the Kaiju presents, he uses the Arrow's right arm to take a swing at the monster with his new club. He makes contact, knocking it several thousand feet away. He can feel Felicity's hum of approval at the back of his mind at the choice, readying the sword for the next round.

The Kaiju comes at them again, slime dripping from its jaws and blue blood trailing in the water. "Brace," Felicity warns, and Oliver releases his hold on the ship. For a moment, their field of vision is filled with biting jaws and at least five rows of teeth as they try to gain the upper hand.

The thought runs through Felicity's head, but he snatches it out because it's a perfect way to end this: "Nuclear reactor." As they hold it off, the two of them confer details of a plan while waiting for the perfect moment.

It comes to them fairly quickly. The Kaiju pulls back in an attempt to take the upper hand, but when it tries to attack again, they force its lower jaw into the heat of the nuclear reactor. It screams in agony—a horrible, shrill sound—as it pulls back, making itself an easy target. Felicity swings the sword one last time.

Otachi's body hits the water first, and then its head.

For a long moment, there's nothing but silence. Both of them are breathing hard and sweating from the exertion of manipulating the Jaeger, and Felicity is pale from the blood loss. When she glances over at him, strands of wet, multicolored hair fall into her face. The purple skin under her eyes makes him suck in a breath; it's worse than he originally thought. Still, he makes sure to tell her, _You did well tonight._

She rolls her eyes, responding to his emotions instead of his thoughts. _I'm_ fine _, Oliver_.

Ultimately, the silence is broken by neither of them; Diggle's voice crackles through the backup comm systems. "Arrow, we lost you after you hit the air. Everyone else is in, but we need a sit rep."

Oliver and Felicity share a glance, and he motions to the the comm unit with a grin. "We bagged two kills tonight, John," she answers, her voice tired. She stops to spit blood. "We're coming home."

Before she can brush it off, Oliver adds, "Your pilots dropped too high, Marshal. Felicity lost a docking clamp in the impact, and she has a broken nose from it." She shoots him a withering glance, but he shrugs instead. _I told you_ , he reminds her, _I'm protective of the people I care about_. It quiets her protests immediately. "Have medical standing by—it's a bad one."

Comparatively, their trip back to base is uneventful. Felicity mostly falls out of her dock when the Green Arrow is safely in the hangar again, and Oliver is nearly asleep on his feet, too. "Medical can check me out tomorrow," she assures him with a yawn as she stops to grab her helmet. "The only thing that's happening tonight is scrubbing the blood off my face and going to bed."

"Not going to happen," he growls back at her. It's almost as if she's _trying_ to worry him with her situation. She glares, but it has no effect on him. "I'll carry you back to your quarters if you want, but I know how it felt, Felicity. You need to have someone look at it."

Her glare lasts only a moment longer before she softens. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

His expression must be answer enough, because she sighs. "My bones feel like pudding and this Drivesuit weighs more than I do. I don't feel like arguing tonight." She pokes his shoulder as they take the elevator to the ground floor. "But _don't_ think you've won. I just elected to save my energy for walking back to medical." Tired or not, Oliver still laughs.

When they walk into the Shatterdome, it's to find everyone staring at them. All of the two hundred-odd residents of the Shatterdome have eyes on them in hushed silence. Felicity falters mid-step with her busted helmet under her arm, eyes widening in increasing alarm.

Before either of them can act on their mutual urge to run, the room bursts into cheers and applause. Felicity breaks into a wide smile, eyes sparking as though she's just realized what they've accomplished. Two Category Fours in one night, without any assists. Many of her friends are screaming, and Oliver notices that even Lance is clapping, even if it is with a grimace on his face.

Oliver smiles wider than he has in ages, throwing his arm over her shoulder. She beams up at him, and he kisses her cheek the way he did in the Shatterdome three months ago. "You were great out there, Ranger," he tells her honestly, causing that grin to grow and her emotions to flutter a little. "I don't think they'll underestimate you again."

She snorts. "I'm not the only one who will be taken seriously after tonight."

* * *

 _Playlist:_

 _"All Together" - Stars in Stereo_  
 _"Where Do We Go" - Lindsey Stirling feat. Carah Faye_  
 _"Eva" - Nightwish_  
 _"Raise Hell" - Dorothy_  
 _"Missile" - Dorothy_  
 _"Whoever Brings the Night" - Nightwish_


	7. Revelation

**Chapter: 7 - Revelation  
Word Count: 6151**

 **Notes:** Predictably, I'm being horrible about reviews again this week. It's been all migraines and crazy hours and falling asleep by 8:30. (In case you haven't noticed, I'm a party animal. :P) So I'm sorry and I'm running far behind.

That being said, I hope this chapter makes up for it. This is the penultimate chapter, so I'm trying to build something you've probably been waiting for since the beginning. I hope you guys enjoy it! Thanks so much for reading—and I'm always grateful if you want to leave a review! :)

* * *

"Four to three," Oliver calls out as Thea holds one Roy Harper at the end of her stick, applauding his sister's performance today. She's worked hard over the past few months, going through partner after partner, but today paid off. He's not the only one smiling; Thea looks as though she just discovered the existence of magic and, as she helps him up, Roy flashes her a grin, too.

"Looks like you have a partner, Thea," Oliver continues with a smile—one that doesn't even falter when she hugs Roy. "You two need to go down to J-Tech and get fitted for your Drivesuits." Thea rushes to hug him, too, before running off, and he just smiles after her. He understands the elation perfectly; he smiled like that a year ago when his own combat trial ended on a note of success.

In some ways, it seems impossible that over a year has passed since he and Felicity took to the mats with uncertainty. For the past ten months, they've been taking down Kaiju together, with fourteen kills to their run already. Though the escalating emergence of Kaiju is troubling, they've still managed to emerge from the Breach victorious, despite a few injuries and pieces of broken equipment.

Perhaps even more surprising is the _publicity_ that comes with it. While he's familiar with being in the spotlight as a Jaeger pilot, the media circuit roared to life after the Green Arrow took down two Category Fours without any backup. For some kid with a smartphone, excitement over the battle outweighed self-preservation, and he had filmed the whole thing. When the world learned the truth, it was met with disbelief, and it was only then that the two Rangers had agreed to interview. The public was reacquainted with a far different Oliver Queen, and they finally met Felicity Smoak.

And, not unlike Oliver himself, they were enamored with her.

Now that the frenzy has started to die down, he's finally able to catch his breath. Now that the publicity nightmare is over, he doesn't have to deal with the panic attacks just before he walks onto the stage, though his nightmares will always haunt him and sometimes he still wonders what he's doing back in the Shatterdome after Tommy. But despite that, things are better than they've been since Tommy's death, and that shows promise.

Now, he's no longer afraid to hope.

As the group of spectators around the ring starts to dissipate for lunch, Oliver starts to push through them for the cafeteria. Today's _their_ day, the one day a week where he and Felicity go to the hangar for lunch, just the two of them. While sometimes their circle of friends—well, Felicity's circle of friends—join them in the hangar, they've seemed to learn that Fridays are _their_ days.

He's almost out of the training area when a voice calls his name. When he turns, he already knows who it is; Ray Palmer is easy to distinguish in the din of voices because he spends so much time talking to the pilots. Though he's interested in piloting himself, he also does a lot of work on the neural bridge between pilot and Jaeger.

The reason Oliver frowns, however, is because Ray Palmer's main interest seems to be Felicity.

While Felicity's personal life is her own and only on the periphery of his life, it's something they've talked about in great detail. Oliver's attempt to date McKenna Hall had been met with complicated results due to Drifting, and it had pulled down their alignment percentage temporarily. Since then, they'd both agreed that dating was out of the question until they were forced into retirement.

Fighting back a sigh, Oliver asks in the most cordial tone he can manage, "What can I help you with, Ray?" Judging by Ray's expression, he doesn't quite succeed, but the Ranger instructor has places to be. Then again, it could be that the scientist is always guarded since Oliver kicked his ass at combat trials a year ago.

"I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute?" He looks around at the crowd filtering out of the room. "Um, privately?" Oliver only quirks an eyebrow as the last of the room filters out, crossing his arms to wait silently. Ray swallows unnecessarily hard. "I just, um… I kind of wanted to ask you a quick question. It's about Felicity, but I didn't want to make her uncomfortable by asking."

Oliver immediately uncrosses his arms, expression clearing. While he doesn't always appreciate Ray, he can't say no to any questions directed at him to prevent Felicity's discomfort. "Of course," he replies immediately. Ray releases a breath, some of the color returning to his face. "I'll answer if I can."

The scientist runs a hand through his hair. "I was just wondering if Felicity is seeing anyone," he admits in a quiet tone. "I've tried to hint at it a few times, but she never really responds, and I wanted to know if I was…" He motions toward Oliver, the action implying a whole lot more than any words could. "Interfering with anything," he finishes lamely.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, the Jaeger pilot replies, "Ray, Felicity and I are partners. _Friends_. You know as well as I do that relationships have no place in the Drift." Though he doesn't seem to believe him, Ray nods once. "Felicity isn't seeing anyone." He doesn't add that she has no desire to change that; after all, it's Felicity's life, and Oliver isn't going to stand in the way of it. And if it gives him the opportunity of watching her turn him down, all the better.

"Thanks," Ray replies, and the veteran Ranger nods once.

Turning, Oliver is surprised to find Thea leaning against one of the support columns, arms crossed over her chest in the picture of idle rich boredom. Despite that, he knows his sister well enough to realize when there's something on her mind; her fingers drum against her arm. "You hate that guy," she declares out of nowhere. "And you sure as hell hate the idea of anyone with Felicity." Oliver opens his mouth to protest, but she doesn't let him. "So why were you nice to him?"

"Felicity makes her own choices, Thea," is all he says, and she quirks an eyebrow at him. "I don't hate the idea of anyone with Felicity—I hate the idea of anyone treating her with less respect than she deserves." Thea snorts, rolling her eyes. Finally, he admits, "And because relationships make it harder for us to align properly, we've decided to limit that."

"So, basically," his sister paraphrases as she pushes off of the wall, "you knew she'd turn him down, so you decided it wouldn't hurt to let him strike out." She grins. "I know how you are, Ollie. You threw my first boyfriend out of the house because he kissed me. You protect the people you care about—even when they don't need it."

"What do you want, Thea?" he demands, already tired of this discussion.

Her expression falters, and she bites her bottom lip. "Just a question," she hedges. "I don't really know anything about the Drift, but your better half helped design it and you've Drifted a thousand times before." Waving a hand, she finally asks, "How do you hide things from your Drift partner?"

Feeling his brow furrow, Oliver answers, "You _don't_ , Speedy." Her own brow knits together at that, clearly troubled by the response. He thought she knew this—it's one of the most basic tenets of the Drift. "That's why it takes a strong bond to make a Drift work. You share _everything_ —good and bad." He sighs. "It's also a curse sometimes. The reason Slade and I couldn't Drift anymore is because I knew he loved Shado, but I went after her anyway. It destroyed us."

Thea's disquiet fades into confusion, but she doesn't try to speak. Assuming she needs to think about this before asking any more questions, Oliver brushes past her, toward the mess hall for a tray. Now more than ever, he wants to see Felicity, to discuss the two new Jaegers, Coyote Tango and the Red Arrow that Thea and Roy will be piloting if their test alignment is high enough.

He's two steps away when she calls out, "Then why doesn't Felicity know you're in love with her?"

It stops him in his tracks. For months, he's been skirting around the edges of this, trying desperately to keep both of those ideas away from one another. His feelings would only complicate their Drift ability, maybe even make things tense between them. And Oliver can safely say that's the last thing he wants.

Instead of responding, he simply stares at his sister, and she scoffs. "Please, Ollie. You're my brother and I know you." She points at him. "It's in the little things. It's when she speaks and you focus on nothing but her. It's the way you touch her, constantly gripping a shoulder or kissing her cheek." Her expression softens a little, a smile turning Thea's mouth upward. "It's in the way you smile at her when you think no one is looking." He only stares at her and she adds in a challenge, "Deny it, if you want."

"I'd never," Oliver answers quietly. To his surprise, Thea breaks out into a wide grin. "She doesn't know because I didn't want to upset her." Suddenly he finds it impossible to look at her, choosing to stare at the arena instead. "We _work_ together, Speedy."

In response, his sister snorts. "Ollie, you're ridiculous," she declares, rolling her eyes for reasons he doesn't understand. "Remember when your… _thing_ with McKenna screwed up your alignment percentage with Felicity?" Of course he does. It had terrified him; he thought he'd managed to destroy his ability to Drift with her, too. "Did you ever wonder why?" At his blank expression, she sighs. "It wasn't because of _you_ , Ollie. It was because _Felicity_ didn't like seeing you with someone else. If you're smart enough to hide your desire to make babies with her"—he flinches at her wording—"Felicity sure as hell is smart enough to do the same, Ollie."

Running a hand over his face, he asks his sister, "Do you have any idea what happens when romance enters the Drift, Thea?" Her frown is answer enough. "Felicity has worked hard for this. She's wanted to be a pilot for years and been ignored and dismissed because she's brilliant. Anyone with Drift compatibility and a partner can Drift, but very few can do what she does." Crossing his arms, he adds quietly, "She won't Drift without me."

"Because she loves you, you idiot," Speedy declares.

Suddenly the context of their conversation comes rushing back, and Oliver realizes where the originally came from. Thea rarely ever gives him relationship advice, and she started by asking a single question—for advice. "Is this about Roy?" he asks her, his tone soft. Her inability to look him in the eye gives him the answer he needs. "You could do a lot worse, Speedy."

Before she manages to respond, he walks away; already he knows she'll need time to process his response and her own feelings. (Mostly he knows this because he needs the same.) For the first time, he dreads facing Felicity now, with these feelings lingering between them. Perhaps they were there before, but it was much easier to think his feelings were unrequited.

As if to answer his prayers, the siren blares, red lights flashing overhead. For the first time in his Ranger career, Oliver finds himself relieved by the call. Felicity is already their changing area of the Drivesuit room when he enters, their urgency affording them little privacy. She's half-dressed, the one-piece circuitry suit hanging around her hips, clothed from the waist upward in only a red bra and her dog tags.

Oliver doesn't know whether to laugh or groan.

She looks up as he enters, meeting his eyes with a tight, nervous smile. Her nose doesn't sit quite right since she broke it on their first mission, making an odd contrast from the rest of her in some ways. With the bright lipstick and the streaks of pink, purple, and turquoise through her hair, that broken nose hints at an underlying strength that overwhelmed him before. It suits her.

He responds to her smile with one of his own before averting his eyes, switching into his own circuitry suit. Like always, they're quiet at first, but as his nervous energy fades into hers, it agitates her. While he lapses into silence when anxious, Felicity prefers to speak. "I've never been so glad to hear the Kaiju alarm in my life," she declares. "When the siren went up, I think Ray was attempting to ask me out." Somehow Oliver manages to remain quiet. "I would have hated to turn him down—he's a good friend, but _only_ a friend."

His silence must speak volumes because Felicity makes a sound in her throat. "And you knew," she accuses.

"He might have mentioned something," he replies in a careful tone. Even without turning, he can _feel_ her arching an eyebrow at his back. "He asked me if you were seeing anyone because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"And probably because we haven't quite shaken that rumor that we're sleeping together," Felicity replies bluntly, causing him to choke on air for a moment. "But you _let him_ walk away thinking he has a shot." Again Oliver silent, and something smacks him in the back of the head: her bra. Apparently she hasn't tired of throwing her clothes at him when she's mad. "And you did it on _purpose_."

"Your life, your choice, Felicity," he answers in an even tone. "I know we discussed it, but I'm not going to stand in your way." He folds the undergarment she threw at him and places it with his own folded clothes, which is far better treatment than it's used to; Felicity nests in her spaces, resulting in cluttered desks and her floor full of dirty laundry.

"I know," she replies with a smile in her voice. A door creaks as she slams her locker shut. "And for the most part, I like that about you. But from now on, if you have to field questions from potential suitors, you can tell them I'm not interested."

Taking a chance with Speedy's words rolling around in his head, he can't help but take a risk. Zipping the circuitry suit halfway up and slamming his own locker closed, he warns her, "I don't want to do that to your reputation." He turns to gauge her expression before adding, "If I start chasing away your admirers, they're going to think it's because we're together."

"Let them," she remarks with a challenge in her voice.

Something passes between them that he doesn't know how to describe. She crosses her arms over her chest in the skin-tight suit, and, so faintly Oliver thinks he imagines it, her eyes darken. She smirks before walking up to him, pulling his zipper the rest of the way to his collar. For a moment the heat is so palpable he thinks there might be some truth to it, but then a locker slams in the background and they both jump apart, moving to exit the area.

"It's a Category Five," she finally says with gravitas. "First ever."

"A Kaiju is a Kaiju," Oliver answers as they step out. Others start to filter into the locker areas, and Sara salutes him before whistling at Felicity. "This one will be bigger and faster than what we're used to. We'll have to fight smarter—brute force isn't going to take this thing down." He offers a slight uptick of his lips in a smile. "That won't be a problem for you."

"Don't sell yourself short," Felicity answers as their Drive techs start bolting the sections of their armor shells into place. "Your Drifting with me—I'm sure some of my genius has rubbed off on you." She winks as his technicians, Cisco and Curtis, snort at her words.

Another of the technicians, Caitlin, steps in to help Felicity with her own, and Ray steps up as the second technician on her suit. Of course. Oliver refrains from rolling his eyes. "I think my… tenaciousness has rubbed off on you," he counters with a slight smile. "You're more difficult every time we Drift."

In a very mature form of response, she answers by sticking her tongue out at him. He opens his mouth to continue teasing her, but he notices Ray's eyes raking over Felicity's figure. Though he finds it understandable, the Drive tech isn't subtle, and heat rises to her face as she attempts to ignore it.

"Ray?" he calls out all hint of humor leaving his voice. Even to his own ears, it sounds hard and cold. His eyes meet Oliver's, and he pales a little. "Is there a problem?"

Palmer flinches at the tone, quickly excusing himself and trading duties with Patty, one of Felicity's more routine technicians. "My hero," Felicity says in a mordant tone, rolling her eyes. She cuts him a look of rebuke, but Oliver stares back, unrepentant. After a moment, she sighs. "Look, as much as I appreciate your ability to say 'I will murder you' in one glance, you didn't have to scare him. I mean, his staring was kind of creepy, but there had to be another way to convince him he's coming on too strong. I said to warn them off, not make them sleep with one eye open."

He only offers a neutral expression as he takes his helmet from Cisco.

They lapse into silence, even as they enter the cockpit and move into their respective docking stations. After fourteen successful missions, there's nothing to say in those moments before a Drift. Everything that needs to be said already has been; after all, they've been in each other's heads.

 _Initiating neural handshake_ goes through the speakers, and then he's flying through a long trail of memories—not just his, but also hers. The memories of his father and Tommy dying still catch him with the impact of a battering ram, but the more they Drift, the more Felicity's happy memories mingle with and provide insulation from his darker ones.

By the time he emerges from the Drift, Oliver is panting. It takes him several heartbeats to make sense of the chaos as more than just background noise, but then Diggle's voice breaks through his fog. "Oliver _always_ goes out of alignment," he's saying to the techs in the tower. "That's normal. But Felicity's only gone out once in her dollar ride." Someone in the background informs him that Oliver is back in and he demands, "Queen, what the hell did you do? Felicity is out of alignment."

Turning to look at his partner, he finds her staring at him with wide eyes, mouth parted. Unlike when she chased the RABIT, Felicity's expression isn't glassy and vacant as though she's living out a tale inside her head. Instead, she's clear and lucid, the fog in her mind having _nothing_ to do with a rookie mistake. Actually, he thinks it might have something to do with the memory of his conversation with Thea playing around in her head.

They don't speak—or share thoughts. The Drift is as silent as it was after Tommy died, though it doesn't have that same emptiness or sense of desolation. She's there and she's linked to him, but they both seem to be avoiding the giant elephant in the Drift.

"Queen?" Digg barks out.

Both Oliver and Felicity snap to attention, though he can feel her mentally reeling. "Arrow to control," she says in a distant voice. "We're up and running. Didn't mean to worry you, John." Her eyes lock on her partner's for a moment. "I was blindsided by a RABIT."

"Well, whatever it was," Cisco interjects, "it must have worked. You two are at a ninety-eight-six now. That's better than it has been, even before your drop to a ninety-four a few months ago."

As their Jaeger is transported to the middle of the Pacific Ocean, the two of them spend the entire transport bringing new meaning to the phrase "quiet as the grave." It's unnerving; he always depends upon Felicity's mental and verbal voice to help calm his discomfort, and yet she's only adding to it by being so uncharacteristically mute.

It's strange; on paper, they're better than ever, but he's never felt so distant from her.

 _I'm not mad_ , her mental voice reaches out to reassure him gently. _I just…_ She falters, as if words are beyond her somehow. _I have a lot to process, and right now we have a Kaiju to take on. We can't afford to be distracted_. She's right, of course. _We can talk about this later._

As they touch down in the ocean a few miles from the meanest, ugliest Kaiju to date, he pushes all troubled thoughts aside and focuses on the fight. Diggle barks orders into their comm link, giving the Green Arrow the lead as the Black Canary touches down on one side, Striker Eureka moving into position on the other.

Together, Oliver and Felicity move the Jaeger forward a few steps, and he presses the button for the plasma arrows again. After a year of practice, they don't even have to discuss it mentally and come to an agreement; they move as one to fire it.

The Kaiju gives a wild scream as the plasma blast deflects off of its heavy armor.

"Shit," Oliver and Felicity say in agreement. Despite the dire situation, he can hear Sara laugh over the comm link; she seems to find amusement in their ability to link up so tightly they can speak as one.

The monster charges at them, lashing out with three barbed tails. "Sword!" Felicity barks to him, though Oliver is already reaching for the button. They impact just as the sword starts to deploy, and the barrage of hits causes the Jaeger to shake and stumble. Somehow they manage to keep it upright just as the AI informs them, _Sword deployed_.

This time when it swings its tail, both of them are ready with two blades. The Arrow's left sword slices through one of the Kaiju's tails as it attacks, causing it to scream in pain. Oliver misses with the right sword as it flails in pain, but the Black Canary steps forward with its plasma staff and takes a swing at the monster's crocodile-like head.

The blow deflects off without leaving a scratch, and it rounds on the Canary. The Jaeger moves just fast enough to catch its powerful jaws before they tear into the hull. "We're pinned!" Laurel calls through the comm link.

Oliver and Felicity pull the Arrow into a run before she speaks, but Striker Eureka is newer and faster. While running, Striker discharges a full clip from the plasma cannons into the Category Five. It turns, opening both of its mouths and gnashing jaws while sliding toward Striker.

"Thanks, babe," Sara calls through the comms. They release a plasma shockwave at the same time, which manages to make the Kaiju even angrier. At the same time, Oliver manipulates the right hemisphere so that he puts a sword into the beast's side.

"Anything for you, my beloved," Nyssa replies as Striker draws swords of its own.

 _Relationship goals_ flickers through Felicity's mind, surprising Oliver so much that he fails to lift the sword in time to make a good pass at the Kaiju. He could have sliced off another of those damn tails if he had been paying attention. _They're fighting_ Kaiju _together, Oliver. Can you imagine what it would be like to do that with your partner?_

Before he can stop it, the thought slips out: _I already fight Kaiju with you_. He has to block a perfectly good opportunity for a strike because she misses, stunned with the weight of his words.

When he blocks, she puts the sword through one of the Kaiju's arms, slicing through it like butter. "Later, Oliver," she growls in warning. "This is a conversation for when we're _not_ facing down a Category Five with the personality of a very pissed-off Cerberus."

"What the hell is going on with you two?" Isabel demands as Striker takes another stab at the massive creature. Even in the midst of a battle with a Category Five, she manages to sound cool, collected, and almost _bored_ with the turn of events. "You're fighting the same way you handle television interviews."

Suddenly the monster turns and its jaws latch on to Striker Eureka's left arm, ripping it off and throwing it at Canary. The action knocks them off balance and temporarily leaves the Arrow fighting this beast alone, but, in their shared minds, Oliver can feel the weight of Felicity's realization. There's a weakness—they just have to take it.

"Canary, Eureka, stay back," his partner warns them. "Oliver and I are about to do something stupid." Isabel snorts and mutters something that sounds distinctly like _again_. "And, Isabel, don't you have something else to do beside make condescending comments? Or are you out of puppies to kick?"

Felicity doesn't wait for a response, instead allowing Oliver to switch to the plasma cannon and fire a few shots. While Felicity steadies her sword, it charges them again, jaws gnashing as it makes an attempt to grab them.

In a stroke so beautiful it would make swordsmen cry, Felicity sinks the blade into the roof of the Kaiju's mouth.

It crumples on the spot, but neither of them want to take a chance on a resurgence of the beast. Oliver stabs it a second time, pushing the blade through its throat instead. Blue blood pours out of the wound at the same time Cisco informs them, "No pulse on the scanners. I think it's down."

"Boom! Drop the mic!" Felicity calls out, and Oliver bites back a smile. "Did you see that? We took down the _first_ Category Five in history. I dealt the final blow—with a _sword_. If that's not a little badass, I don't know what is."

"I'm definitely a little turned on," Sara adds in a teasing tone.

Felicity laughs, high on their victory tonight. "Sara, don't flirt with me in front of your mildly terrifying girlfriend," she chides with a smile. It fades immediately as something akin to horror sets in. "No offense, Nyssa. I mean, 'mildly terrifying' works for you. You handle that title with pride." Her eyes go wide. "Please don't kill me."

Judging by the short bark of laughter from Striker Eureka's link—that Oliver knows can't be Isabel, who has no sense of humor—committing a murder is the last thing on her mind. "At least my beloved has good taste," she comments, which startles a laugh out of Oliver.

"Let's go home," Felicity suggests. It filters through the speakers, but something tells him it's meant for him alone. _It is_ , she assures him. _We have a lot to discuss._

The return to the Shatterdome passes in relative calm. After they disconnect and undock, Oliver retreats to the showers before she can corner him, waiting until she's left the locker room to get dressed. Suddenly their conversation seems as though it has too much weight, and he knows it won't end well between them. The moment she tells him her thoughts, it will be over, and he doesn't want to ruin this partnership they've been building for the last year.

So he avoids her.

It isn't something he's proud of, but Oliver avoids one of his best friends for the remainder of the day. He knows she'll look for him in the abandoned underground level, so he ducks into the empty J-Tech laboratories and Felicity's office. While he's there, he looks at her blueprints for the two new Jaegers she mentioned. Red Arrow, predictably, seems to be a color variant of the Green Arrow, with weapons similar to the Black Canary's as well. Coyote Tango, however, is entirely other. It's lighter and smaller than the other Jaegers, built for speed instead of taking hits.

It's after midnight when he decides he's safe to return to his room. Only the emergency lights are on in the hallways, and he enters the keycode to his door to find the lights already on. Suddenly alert, he turns to find Felicity sitting on his bed with a tablet in her hands, clearly going over plans and repairs. Which would be welcome, except she doesn't have his combination.

Surprise either flickers through their neural connection or across his face because she rolls her eyes. "Hacked into the Pentagon, remember?" she reminds him in a dry tone. "Hacking a four-digit encryption is something I can do in my sleep." She powers off the tablet. "I think we have some things to discuss."

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for what he knows will be an unpleasant conversation, he pulls out a chair at the small table in the middle of the room. At this point, he's so sick with worry that he can't trust himself to speak, so he nods once instead, silently asking her to start.

"You're in love with me," she declares bluntly, with no warning. There's no question in her tone, but Felicity doesn't really need to ask at this point. Even still, Oliver nods once before running a hand over his face and returning his focus to his shoes. Because of that, it takes him a moment to register her soft words as more than just a hope: "I'm in love with you, too."

His eyes immediately flick to hers. "Yeah?" he can't help but ask. It isn't really a question, though; it's a prayer, a desire, a hope he's held on to for so long even knowing she deserves _so much more_. In his life, he's desired many things he hasn't deserved, but none so much as Felicity Smoak.

She nods once before throwing him another curveball: "What do you want to do about it?"

His confusion leaks into her amusement through the Ghost, and she laughs. "You know as well as I do what happens when romantic relationships enter the Drift," she explains, sobering. "We'll be separated, and I'm not going to fly with another partner. So I guess I'm asking if you'd be willing to potentially throw away a successful career for me, but I don't want to force you to choose."

"There's no choice to make, Felicity," Oliver answers instantly. It brings a soft smile to her lips, one that he returns. "I've seen enough of being a Jaeger pilot. It's one of the few things I can do without failing, but… I don't want to ask that of _you_." How does he tell her he'd burn the world down for a chance to kiss her, to hold her in his arms every night? "Even though I think we're worth fighting for."

It's only now that he hesitates. "I've been a Jaeger pilot for five years now—more than most. I've lost every partner I've ever had—in one way or another." He motions to her. "But you've fought for so long for a chance to be a Jaeger pilot, Felicity. I won't ask you to give that up for me." Quietly he admits, "I love you too much to ask that."

"You wouldn't have to," she assures him, her tone just as soft. "I mean, I… I thought I wanted this more than anything, but I don't want to be the person who throws away a chance at happiness for a career that won't last." Felicity looks away, biting her lip. "I can't ask you to wait, either."

"I would," he assures her truthfully. No matter what, no one will ever understand him on a level as deeply as Felicity does. It's something that's always bothered him about the Drift: After linking with someone, they know each other better than their own minds. How could anything else compare? He sighs. "I know we've known each other for a year, that we've Drifted a handful of times, but… I think this is it for me."

He looks away before he can gauge her reaction. There are some things he doesn't want to see flicker through her eyes; the mix of emotions through their link is too hard to read to get a reaction. Instead, he just stares at the worn oak of the table, running his fingers along the lines in the grain.

A hand falls on his, and he looks up to find Felicity standing over him. Her lips are pressed together, as though she's trying to find the right words before blurting them. "A year ago," she begins slowly, her voice hard despite the quiet of her tone, "you asked me to take a chance and step into the ring with you. We were supposed to be impossible, but I said yes anyway." She shakes her head. "It isn't fair and it isn't right, but I'm asking you to take a chance with me anyway. If you don't want to, we'll go back to normal and never—"

She cuts herself off as he rises from his chair, looming over her. Slowly, reverently, he cups her face in one hand, and she leans into his touch, mouth parting as her eyes drop to his lips. It gives him the courage to lean in, so close that he can feel her breath on his skin.

Felicity closes the distance between them, pressing her mouth to his as she grips the sleeve of his shirt tightly in one hand. He kisses her like it's the last thing he'll ever do, like the world is ending around him and it's the only chance he'll ever have. He kisses her the same way he Drifts with her: as if that moment is worth more than anything else he could ever have, precious and never long enough.

 _Not the last chance,_ Felicity assures him in her thoughts, their neural link overpowering at such close proximity to one another. Her hand goes to the back of his neck, pressing them even more tightly together. _Only the first_.

As they break apart, breathing heavily, he presses his lips to her temple the way he has countless times before. "I'll hold you to that," he warns her in a low voice, lips still brushing against her skin. She smiles, eyes falling closed.

With a contented sigh, she answers, "Do you think I'd really be stupid enough to let you go?"

"I think you're stubborn enough to let me stay," he answers as her lips press against his jaw. Something about the situation seems impossible, and Oliver can't help but wonder if he's just in the middle of a pleasant dream. But, then again, his dreams are never this pleasant. Feeling the need to confess to his earlier foolishness, he adds, "I shouldn't have hidden from you."

"I knew you were in J-Tech," Felicity answers as they finally start to pull away. Their hands stay entwined, as though they need a point of physical connection to remind themselves this is real. "But I also knew you'd be aware of the moment I went after you. So I waited for you to process things on your own."

"I thought I had destroyed our relationship," Oliver confesses in a low voice.

"Oh, you did," she answers. "When we started the neural handshake and I saw that memory, it…" She smiles. "It was the sign I had been waiting for. It's been so hard to hide it from you—and sometimes I wasn't sure if I was—and realizing you felt the same was a relief." She pokes his shoulder. "You completely dropped a plasma cannon blast on our friendship." When Felicity kisses him this time, it's only a chaste press of her lips against his. "But I like this better."

He laughs at her expression, the challenge and taunting present there. Using his free hand, Oliver brushes an errant lock of pink hair out of her face, wondering how he could be given such a gift after all of the damage he's done. It makes it that much harder to believe in this reality, in a world where Felicity could love him just as much as he loves her.

When her mouth opens again, it's with another challenge: "Do you want to keep destroying our platonic friendship?"

"Absolutely," he answers, noting the way her eyes darken. "What did you have in mind?"

"We're Ghosting, Oliver," she retorts with a smirk. "You tell me."

* * *

 _Playlist:_

 _"Innocence" - Tarja  
"Hear Me" - Anette Olzon  
"Storytime" - Nightwish  
"Endless Forms Most Beautiful" - Nightwish  
"The World is Ugly" - My Chemical Romance  
"Wicked Ones" - Dorothy_


	8. Requited

**Chapter: 8 - Requited  
Word Count: 6095**

 **Notes:** I am _so_ sorry to show up two days late. My internet has been spotty because of some weather conditions around here. I've been down for around three days. I hate leaving you hanging on the last chapter!

Yeah, the last chapter. I'm kind of sad to see it go, but I hope you'll like the conclusion. ;) I'll just let you read the rest on that. You guys rock my socks and you're awesome. :)

Thanks for staying to the end! You are amazing! :)

* * *

It's still early when Oliver awakens—just before dawn, judging by the time on his alarm clock. At first he thinks he's been awakened by a nightmare again, but instead he notices something shifting under his arm. Felicity. He frowns, pulling her closer to him.

She smacks his bicep. "Oliver, I need to get up," she says, her voice hoarse with a coating of sleep. "Mrs. Queen—your mom—is coming to look over the new Jaeger construction, and I accomplished almost nothing yesterday." She kisses his arm before she adds, "Well, I _did_ do something yesterday. And it was great."

He chuckles before pushing aside the strap of her red tank top to kiss her shoulder. "It was," Oliver agrees with a sleepy smile, pulling her closer. "Is there any way I can convince you to stay until breakfast?"

She turns in his arms to press her lips to his forehead. "I'm sure there is," she admits, "but I need to get out of here before anyone else wakes up." His eyes fly open in surprise; he never thought she'd try to keep them a secret. Before he can come to any more conclusions, Felicity adds, "I have a theory about us, but I'll never get a chance to test it if someone finds out."

A furrow appears between her brows as she settles into thoughts of Drift technology. Ever since their kiss last night, he can feel her so much more clearly while Ghosting—it's almost like they're Drifting now. Despite that, her calculations are beyond his understanding. "What are you thinking, Felicity?" he asks her, his smile fading.

"I'm thinking we don't Drift like normal Drift partners," she replies. Though Felicity's gaze is focused on him, there's a vacant look in her eyes. "And I'm thinking we should do an experiment. Another test run." Oliver's brow furrows. "I can tell Digg we're worried because I fell out of alignment. But the question is: do you trust me?"

"Always," he answers without missing a beat.

She kisses him on the lips this time, and they linger a moment before she pulls away, lifting his arm off of her waist. "Good. I'm going to start the day. Stay here and get a few more hours of sleep, okay?" Her expression softens. "I know you haven't been sleeping well, and I heard you get up in the night and pace for a few minutes."

Though he knows that sleep will be impossible for him, he humors her by staying in bed, watching with a little amazement as she trades the black sleep pants he let her borrow for her regulation PPDC jumpsuit. Perhaps one day Oliver will discover why he's worthy of something so wonderful, but for the moment, he's content simply to have her in his life.

She stops at the door as she adjusts her jumpsuit a little better, pulling her hair out from under the collar. "Oh, and Felicity?" he calls as her hand drops to the latch of the metal door. Her eyebrows rise in silent permission to continue. "I love you."

She flashes him a cheeky grin before replying, "I know." In a move he'd consider ridiculous with anyone else, she blows him a kiss before throwing him a fluttery wave. "I love you, too." With a wink and the twist of her hand, she opens the door and slips out of the room.

For a moment he does nothing more than stare after her, but then he decides that maybe he should take this opportunity to start the day early, to get some practice in downstairs. After a brief shower, he changes into an emerald green T-shirt and a pair of traditional PPDC pilot uniform pants. After all, if his mother is coming today, he'll need to be part of her dog and pony show. He pulls the black uniform shirt on, too, even though it's starchy and uncomfortable.

As he turns to leave, a glint catches his eye from under the bed. Curious, he goes to it, surprised to find a set of dog tags engraved with _Felicity M. Smoak_. Smiling slightly to himself, he pockets them before turning back to the door.

When he arrives in the basement level, Oliver is pleasantly surprised to find both Thea and Roy already practicing with two of the practice bows. In order to know how to use plasma arrows or swords in the Jaegers, they have to first learn how to use the weaponry themselves. So far they're making progress, but working between training sessions will certainly help that.

"You need to keep your elbow up, Roy," Oliver suggests after a short moment of observation. He jumps in response, but straightens his elbow. "And Speedy, you're easing up on the draw a little before you fire." He walks up to where she stands, ready to fire, and he takes her wrist to hold it in place. "Fire from here." He pushes her arm forward slightly, releasing some of the tension on the string. "Not here."

When he steps away, Roy is studying him with wide eyes. Letting the bow fall to his side, he says, "You're in a good mood. What's gotten into you, Oliver?" When the veteran pilot arches his eyebrows in a silent question, he clarifies, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're actually being _nice_ today."

As Thea fires—hitting the bullseye—she adds, "It's a fair question. Usually you're gruff when you're in training mode. Slapping arms into place and barking out orders." She crosses her arms with a wry smile. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

"That's cute, Speedy," Oliver fires back with a smile. Maybe he's feeling a little lighter today than he has in ages, but the reason why is no one's business. Maybe later they'll talk about it, but he owes Felicity the chance to test out whatever theory she's concocted.

Without a solid response, Thea does the same thing the media usually does: comes up with her own story. "Did you actually sleep last night?" Her face falls a little. "I can tell you don't sleep most nights, Ollie." Her eyebrows narrow. "And why are you dressed like an actual Ranger today?"

"Mom is coming," he explains, trying to keep his tone neutral. Judging by Thea's eye roll, it doesn't quite work. "You know how she feels about her formalities." Sighing, he shrugs off the uniform shirt and lays it across the table before grabbing his own bow from the locker. "I'd rather avoid a lecture."

"You wouldn't get one," Thea assures him. "You're her golden boy. I went to one of those fancy dinners with her last week. She loves that you're back in a Drivesuit. Talks about how you're following in Dad's footsteps. She talks like you deserve a medal—another one."

It's one of the things he dislikes about his mother: she likes to make him out to be a hero, a caped crusader single-handedly ridding the world of evil. Meanwhile, the _real_ heroes of this war are the ones who stepped out in a Jaeger and never came back. "The one who deserves a medal is Felicity," he admits with honesty. "She tolerates me being in her head."

Roy is the one to snort this time. "Pretty sure she doesn't mind." Oliver's eyes narrow and even Thea shoots her crush a pointed look. "What? They have a thing. A thing that isn't just about two people being friends." He smirks at Oliver before tacking on, "Digg always says there's no accounting for taste."

Thea blanches, but Oliver just smirks back. "Could say the same about my sister," he remarks in a dry tone. She glares at him with a flush on her cheeks. Roy doesn't seem to understand the insult, but the Ranger knows he will soon enough; after all, they'll be Drifting soon, and there are no secrets between Drift partners.

"Have you heard anything about our Jaeger?" Thea asks, placing her bow on the table as Oliver steps up to start firing. "All I know is that it's supposed to be based off of yours. And that it's a Mark Five, which means it will be more of an electronic marvel and less of a brutal war machine."

"The Mark Fives have better control systems," Oliver explains, remembering some of the less technical aspects of Felicity's knowledge on the subject. "They worked the bugs out of the impulse control in the Drift. The armor is lighter, and the Drivesuits aren't so bulky."

He fires an arrow into the bullseye of the target in front of him before adding, "Your Jaeger will be one of Felicity's designs. You're in good hands." Thea throws him an indulgent smile, even though she rolls her eyes. If Oliver sounds like a lovesick fool, so be it. He is. "She based it off of the Green Arrow. I think she's going with a red design and calling it the Red Arrow."

Roy snorts in something less than excitement as Oliver puts another arrow into the target. "It's nuclear—like ours—and has the plasma arrow capabilities, but it's smaller and has lighter armor. Felicity says it's built for speed." He frowns, thinking. "She said something about it having swords and plasma staves—like Canary, but a matched set instead of just one."

"Sounds badass," Thea remarks, "but I'm not sure how I feel about piloting a younger sibling of my brother's prized Jaeger." She crosses her arms. "No offense, Ollie, but I don't want to spend my career in your shadow. Or Felicity's, for that matter, since she designed it."

"A Jaeger is only as good as its pilots," Oliver answers in an even tone. "The Alpha Omega was a piece of junk, but Maseo made it into a legend. And Felicity's first Jaeger was called Shadow Demon.. It barely lasted two fights before Malcolm Merlyn and Nyssa's father decimated it." He fires another shot before turning to face her. "This Jaeger is going to be what you make it, Speedy. If you treat it like it's second-best, it always will be."

"I'm just glad we're not in the other one she's designing," Roy interjects. "Coyote Tango? I saw the designs for it last week, and it's _insane_. There's barely any armor plating at all on it, and it has really thin legs—but over _seventy_ engine blocks per muscle strand. Barely any plasma weapons to it—all blades." He frowns. "She says it's a Jaeger for a thinker instead of a fighter, but I don't know if anyone can survive that deathtrap."

Oliver already knows about Coyote Tango—the one that Felicity calls _the Huntress_ sometimes—and he knows _precisely_ the right team for her. He's watched McKenna and Helena in the ring enough to know that they're what Felicity had in mind when she brought in the designs. "The goal is not to get hit, Roy," he explains dryly. "It's made for someone who fights fast and light."

They lapse into silence after that, the two co-pilots working on their hand-to-hand techniques while Oliver fires a few arrows for practice. It's a way to clear his mind, to stop himself from worrying about things like his mother or Felicity's plan or the fact he'll likely never Drift again.

The last one worries him least of all. He'd gladly leave it behind for Felicity.

He has no idea how long he's been shooting at the wall when Thea's voice breaks through his concentration. "Ollie? Hello? Tower control to Ollie? Anyone home?" Oliver blinks twice before turning to her. "Finally! I started to think doing something that boring fried your brain."

It isn't just the three of them anymore. Felicity is placing two trays of food on the table with an amused smile on her fuchsia lips. Like him, she's attempted to dress up for his mother's visit. She's wearing a pilot uniform, too: a black pencil skirt with the traditional short-sleeved, button-down black shirt. Despite that, there's a defiance in the way she's chosen to wear it; her hair is hanging loose and the top three buttons of her top are open to expose a turquoise tank underneath. Instead of black heels, she wears a pair of black flats with pandas and pink embellishments on them.

"Thea, it wasn't a problem," Felicity tells her with a smile, tucking pink hair behind the ear with the industrial piercing at the top. "I could have waited. It's impossible to get through to Oliver when he's sticking arrows in things."

"I thought you liked that quality about me," Oliver teases with a hint of a smile. She returns it, so bright and happy that he feels the need to smile wider. "Have you been lying to me?" It's a joke, of course; their mental connection makes it impossible to lie to one another.

"I like your concentration, determination, and focus," Felicity answers. "Your ability to block out the entire world—including the person in your head? Not so much." She motions to the targets in the back. "I was reading into your whole arrow obsession. According to the article I read, if you use a composite shaft, you'd penetrate better."

Unable to resist, he replies with a smirk, "I've never had any complaints about the way I penetrate."

In response, Felicity just smirks back, opening her mouth to say something. Whatever it is, Oliver doesn't get the chance to find out. "If Mom is coming, I guess I should dress accordingly for it," Thea interjects. "And you, too, Roy—I want you to meet my mom." The kid in question is staring at them with wide eyes, and she practically drags him out of the room.

When the door shuts behind them, it's only then that Felicity remarks, "You penetrate just fine. But I believe in constantly improving my own performance, and I need a partner who can keep up."

Oliver walks up to her, stopping just close enough so that he's staring down at her. Somehow their hands tangle together, feeling oddly familiar despite the novelty of their relationship. Felicity presses her lips to his for a brief moment before saying, "I know you skipped breakfast and you're probably starving, so I thought we could have lunch down here. Together."

"Good idea," he agrees. She turns to her tray, sitting on the table next to it. His eyes dip to her legs for a long moment, but when he puts his hands in his pockets, he remembers the souvenir he found on the floor. Holding them up by the chain, Oliver says, "You left these. I found them under the bed."

"Thanks," she answers with a smile, slipping the chain around her neck. "I thought I'd left them in my locker or something." As he takes a few bites of the apple on his plate, Felicity continues, "Remember this morning when I was talking about our ability to Drift?" Oliver nods as she explains around a mouthful of bread, "I'm not sure we know everything we _think_ we do about Drifting."

She waves her fork in the air, somehow managing not to sling macaroni all over the place. "I mean, so far we've proven different, right?" It's a rhetorical question, but he nods anyway, trying his best to bite back a smile at her antics. "Men and women who aren't related aren't supposed to be able to Drift, but here we are. No one has ever been able to pull over ninety-six percent on a Drift, but we have." Taking a bite of macaroni and cheese, she concludes, "We've been selecting Drift partners for years based on similarity. I mean, you're _going_ to be compatible with someone you've known your entire life. You've created a strong bond and learned how to get along despite your differences."

Taking a drink from the bottle of water, Felicity continues, "All this time, we've been focusing on Drift partners who are complementary on an emotional level because they've already bonded. But what if, instead, we focused on selecting Drift partners with limited bonds, but who are more effectively compatible in the long run?" She motions between them. "I mean, look at us, for example. We've already established that we _shouldn't_ work. But we do—on a deeper level where our skills and experiences provide two halves of the same whole. You're physically stronger than I am, and my strength is my brain." She grins. "But we work anyway—and better than any set of Drift pilots to come before us."

"We're unique," Oliver summarizes.

Pointing her fork at him again, Felicity shakes her head. "That's the thing, Oliver," she replies, more thoughtful this time. "In my heart, I'd love to believe that. But in my head…" She frowns. "As a scientist, I've been taught to believe that there's no such thing as an isolated incident. Whether we want to believe it or not, when all other variables are held constant, the results of an experiment can be repeated over and over again. All over the world, by scientists throughout history. I don't think we're an isolated event. I think we're just the breakthrough on the way to a new discovery.

"We Drift differently. We defy all the rules." She frowns for a moment in thought before continuing, "Like when you were dating McKenna." Oliver winces, and Felicity rolls her eyes. "This isn't the ghosts-of-girlfriends-past interrogation. History has shown us that when two people Drift and one or both of them is in a healthy relationship, their Drift percentages improve. They're excited about it, and it makes them happy. More happy memories in the Drift equal a better alignment percentage."

"But we suffered because of it," Oliver points out.

Smiling as though he's proved her point, Felicity declares, " _Exactly_. I know it was partly my fault, but, to be fair, watching the person you're in love with love someone else is agony." Even though he already knows how she feels, the words bring a smile to Oliver's lips. "I think we've stumbled onto a different style of Drifting." She waves her hands. "It could be a rare subset of Drifting, even. I don't know. But since we react opposite of the way modern Drift science tells us we _should_ , it gives us a predictable pattern that we can use for experimentation."

Even if he wasn't in her head, he would know precisely where Felicity wanted to go with this. As she pulls the brownie off his plate, he concludes for her, "And you want to run an experiment on us."

"I do," Felicity answers, though her words are unnecessary. "That's why I suggested to Diggle that we do a trial run." For the first time in the conversation, she seems to hesitate. "I can't make any promises, but we _might_ still be able to Drift. That's why I want to test it." She rises from the desk. "We're scheduled for a trial run at two. But for right now, what I want to test is my own skill with a bow."

She picks up Oliver's bow, grabbing a few arrows before firing three shots. Her form is still a little shaky, but she still somehow manages to hit the bullseye almost every time. Though it's impressive for someone with so little experience, she frowns. Clearly _almost_ perfect isn't good enough for Felicity. It's one of the things he likes about her.

Smiling, he moves away from the table, going to join her. As she aims for her fourth shot, Oliver catches the underside of her right wrist. In slow, careful motions, he draws his fingers to the line of her elbow, shifting it upward. His other hand goes to her waist, and he presses his lips to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. "Elbow up," he suggests against her skin, before kissing it.

"Do you want me to take this shot or not?" she counters.

Before she can, the metal door creaks, and Oliver is halfway through wrapping his hands as if headed to the punching bag when it opens. The last thing he expects when the door opens is his mother in her typical pressed suit and pencil skirt, but yet she stands in the old weapons training facility, her expression neutral. To her credit, Felicity just fires her arrow as though nothing had happened, even if it's not as impressive as her usual groupings.

"There you are, Oliver," Moira says in a clipped tone. "Thea said I could find you here." Her eyes flick to Felicity. "I see the two of you are preparing for the next Kaiju attack."

He watches Felicity bite her lip and close her eyes for a moment before turning with a polished smile. Oliver understands; his mother has that effect on people. Placing her bow on the table, Felicity offers a slight nod before saying in a cordial tone, "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Queen."

"And you, Ms. Smoak," Moira replies, though hers sounds anything but sincere. "I understand you've designed two new Jaegers for us to use." Her eyebrows narrow slightly. "According to Marshal Diggle, they seem to be somewhat… radical."

Though there's no way she could have predicted this blatant attack on her designs, Felicity seems more than prepared to defend them. "After piloting a Jaeger myself, I've come to understand what's important and what isn't," she replies in an even tone. "We've seen what can happen with digital Jaegers, so we go nuclear and analog. We've seen that the pilots' fighting styles play into how they need to maneuver." Crossing her arms, Felicity concludes, "Designing cookie-cutter Jaegers isn't enough any more. I designed the Green Arrow after watching Oliver's previous pilot footage, and the results are much better than if you compare to Deathstroke or the Alpha Omega."

When she frowns, Oliver winces; the _last_ thing this Shatterdome needs is an irritated Moira Queen and an adamant Felicity Smoak squaring off in the basement. His mother hasn't lost a business argument in all the years he's watched her do this, but he'd put money on Felicity winning this one. "While I understand your concerns, Ms. Smoak," she continues in a haughty tone, "these are ten-billion-dollar pieces of equipment. Our basic designs have been tested, and we know they will survive battle. I think we all remember what happened to Shadow Demon."

"What _happened_ ," Felicity cuts in, "is that two pilots who barely pulled an eighty-eight alignment fell apart when Malcolm Merlyn decided that the Glades weren't worth saving in the middle of a Kaiju battle." Oliver frowns; he forgot about that. Malcolm started Drifting with Robert and the incident was swept under the rug. But to someone who had been there for a Kaiju attack, he can understand why his partner never did. "My Jaegers don't fail because of conceptual design, Mrs. Queen. They fail because _Drift partners_ fail."

Stepping in before it ends in a fistfight, Oliver interjects, "The Red Arrow is a Mark Five version of our Jaeger, Mom. If Thea and Roy pass the trial run, it will be _their_ Jaeger. It's smaller and lighter than the Green Arrow, which will be better for them." Her eyes widen in surprise; apparently Speedy neglected to mention that. "And I have two pilots who will be perfect for Coyote Tango—light and fast, with plenty of firepower."

"The way we see the Drift is changing," Felicity finishes for him, "and we're changing with it."

Moira looks between the two Drift partners with calculating eyes. Whatever she sees there causes her to frown before turning to Oliver. "May I speak to you alone, please?" she asks in a sharp tone.

Somehow he refrains from rolling his eyes. "Mom, Felicity is my partner," he reminds her. "The next time we link, she's going to know what we've said." He cuts his eyes over to Felicity, offering her a tentative smile that she returns. "There are no secrets when you Drift with someone."

Felicity's hand rests on his arm. "That's not a good enough reason to disrespect someone's privacy," she disagrees with a smile. She gathers the two mostly empty trays of food in one hand, taking his with the other. "Remember we need to be ready for that test run in thirty minutes."

"I'll be there," Oliver promises. For better or worse, he'll be there.

She starts to walk away, but their hands stay linked for as long as possible. His eyes linger on her until the door shuts behind her, and only then does he turn his full attention to his mother. However, her expression is different, eyes widening before she schools her features again.

"While Felicity Smoak takes risks with our Jaegers that I don't approve of," Moira starts bluntly, "she's an excellent technician. One of our finest." She softens, ever so slightly. "I can see her influence on you these last few months. She's good for you." It's the last thing he expected from his mother; he can't find the words to speak. "Despite that, Oliver, you'll be throwing your career away. I hope you remember that before this progresses any further."

"I know what I stand to lose, Mom," he answers. "She's worth it."

He doesn't stay to wait for any questions. He doesn't try to argue. He doesn't try to convince her of the truth. Instead, Oliver picks up his black uniform shirt, pulling it on as he brushes past her for the door. Without another word, he leaves her standing in the range.

By the time he makes the long trek to their lockers in the Drivesuit room, Felicity is already slipping into her circuitry suit. For the first time since he's started Drifting, Oliver isn't nervous or concerned about what will happen. He's made his choice, and he won't regret it.

They're quiet as they slip into their suits, as the techs help them into their armor shells. The Drivesuits and the metal armor feel heavier than usual, but maybe they're weighted with the magnitude of the impending results. Even Cisco comments on their melancholy, but Felicity dismisses it with concern about going out of alignment again.

The weighted silence persists until they enter the cockpit. Before Felicity docks, she turns toward him. For a long moment, they don't say anything, but then she finally asks, "Are you sure about this, Oliver?"

After Drifting with someone, words are no longer necessary. Despite that, Oliver decides to communicate with her anyway. Dropping his helmet on the console, he walks up to her. Slowly he circles her waist with one hand, cupping her cheek with the other. Her eyes darken as she realizes his intent, but she doesn't rush it.

She waits.

Oliver presses his lips to hers, and he isn't gentle about it. This time there's no reverence or wonder behind it; it's all desperation and necessity. Despite that, she's ready for it, returning the kiss with just as much passion. Something crashes to the ground, and then both of her hands are on his face. Every brush of his lips against hers is a promise—a promise that, no matter what, she's _always_ his first choice.

"Are you two ready to go?" Diggle asks through the comms. It causes them to break apart, and it's only after his eyes leave Felicity that he figures out what made the noise: Felicity's helmet is on the floor, on the other side of the cockpit.

"We're getting there," Felicity answers after punching on the comm. Her voice is high and breathless, a little fluttery around the edges, but she still manages to calm and collected despite that. "We just had some last-minute things to discuss."

"You can discuss them in the Drift," Diggle replies. "I need to see why two of the best Rangers to ever pilot a Jaeger can't stay in alignment with one another. Now step up and we can get started."

Oliver docks, watching Felicity as she does the same. "Are you ready for this?" he asks her in a low voice.

"For better or worse," she replies, echoing his thoughts from earlier. When he nods, she calls a little louder through the comm link, "Pilots Queen and Smoak on board and ready to connect." He grins at her, remembering how nervous they had been for their first trial run. Now there's nothing left to be concerned about. "Ready to initiate trial run."

"Tower control to Arrow," Digg replies, his tone almost bored now. They might just surprise him with this one. "Prepare for trial run. Commencing Drift protocols." To the nearest technician, he adds, "Mr. Seldon, initiate the neural handshake."

The plunge into the Drift doesn't feel any different than normal. Oliver always thought that the Drift would feel like foreign territory between two people who are unable to align, but in some ways it feels better than ever. It no longer feels like diving into cold water, and he can see more of Felicity's memories between his than ever. Tommy's death catches him for a moment, but not like it usually does.

When he emerges, he doesn't go out of alignment—for the very first time. He emerges in time to watch Felicity do the same, and they stare at each other. Her index and middle fingers on her right hand are crossed, and Oliver bites back a smile. He never pegged her as the superstitious type. Somehow it only makes her more endearing.

 _Flattery will get you everywhere_ , Felicity returns mentally, with a punctuating thought that feels like the equivalent of an eye roll. _And I'm not superstitious, but I felt like we needed all the luck we could get._ After a moment's hesitation, she adds, _I'm still wearing my Star of David bracelet. Couldn't bear to take it off._

 _I wish I had something to believe in_ , he returns. _My only faith is in you._

"Neural Drift initiated," Diggle tells them, though they already know that at this point. "You two are looking good today. Mr. Queen, you even managed to align properly today." Felicity smiles at him across the cockpit, the pride radiating off of her. He doesn't feel he deserves it, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

"Left and right hemispheres calibrated," Seldon reports, his tone dry with boredom. "Pilot-to-Jaeger connection is complete. Stand by for alignment percentages." There's a thumping sound. "This thing has been on the fritz all week, " he comments in a muffled voice to the Marshall. "Is there any way we can pay for an upgrade?"

"If you have an extra five million dollars lying around," Diggle replies with a hint of humor, "I'd be glad to get the equipment you need. Miss Smoak has wanted to upgrade this for the last two years." Louder, he calls, "Isn't that right, Felicity?"

"I'd pay _you_ —" she starts.

At the same time, Oliver begins, "She'd pay _you_ —"

They stop to stare at one another for a moment. While they've done this on several occasions before, it's never happened quite the same way. For some reason, Felicity's desire to respond also came out of his mouth as well. At this point, he can't really tell the difference between her thoughts and his; they're both equally as present in his head.

"What the hell?" Cisco mutters, and the comms pick him up. Oliver and Felicity freeze at once; this could be the dreaded result they're waiting for. All they can do is hope that Felicity's theory is correct.

 _I'm not infallible_ , she states, her mental voice grim with doubt.

"Told you," Cooper cuts in. "This equipment has been screwed up for the last week." There's a short pause. "It's been a mess for _months_ , actually, but the alignment analysis has been crazy for the last week."

"What's going on?" the two pilots ask at once. They stare at each other before Felicity speaks again, and Oliver has to restrain himself from speaking over the top of her. "You should have that alignment by now." She sighs. "John, I _told_ you I could fix this in less than two hours. Maybe I should scrap together some parts and we can try again—"

"There seems to be a problem with the alignment analysis," Diggle calls through the comm link, and Oliver can feel his heartbeat speed up with Felicity's. "Hold on just a minute, Arrow. We need to recalibrate and re-run the diagnostic."

It feels like an eternity, waiting. Felicity speaks incessantly about various subjects—her new designs, how much she hated interviewing with Brittany Snow, how she colors her hair—as a way to fill the time, but Oliver remains silent, his nerves making him mute.

"Holy shit," Cooper finally swears.

It isn't exactly the answer they want to hear. Oliver means to ask, but Felicity is faster. "Is that a good 'holy shit' or a bad 'holy shit'?" she demands, her voice turning to steel. Silence is her only answer. "That requires a simple answer, tower control. I need to know—"

"No way in hell is that right," Cisco chimes in over the top of her. Felicity actually _growls_ under her breath.

"I ran it three times, Ramon," Cooper replies in a sharp tone. "It's right. I've never had one do that and, theoretically, it should be impossible, but I switched it out with Bay Five to check. They have newer equipment. Same alignment."

"Call it," Diggle orders in a solemn voice.

There's a long pause that feels like it lasts hours, but then, finally, Seldon says in almost a whisper, "Calibration complete. Alignment percentage one hundred even." There's a pause before he mutters, "Which is impossible."

Oliver can't find the words to speak, but Felicity crows—a glorious sound to his ears. "I _told_ you," she says to him. "I _told_ you about this. Didn't I say that what happened would help our alignment instead of hurting it?" She laughs. "We're a new kind of Drift-compatible. Most can link because of familiarity, but _we_ link because of a deeper connection." Her mind is already rolling through all sorts of research. "I'm going to get published again. I can feel it."

"What did you do that could hurt your alignment?" Diggle asks them.

Though she doesn't speak, Felicity's mind proceeds to answer with flashbacks to last night. Some of them are innocent, but most of them aren't. Either way, it's all laid out in vivid technicolor.

"Felicity," Oliver growls in a low warning. The last thing he needs right now is a reminder; it tempts him to do all those things again, though with less of a hurry this time. _You're not making this easy for me_ , he adds in his head.

 _When did I make_ that _promise?_ she replies with a cheeky grin across her face.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question, Miss Smoak, Mr. Queen," Diggle reminds them, sounding less amused by the moment. "If you two did anything to jeopardize your ability to Drift and this is temporary, you are _not_ going to like the consequences."

"There's nothing temporary about this," Oliver answers, staring at Felicity. Slowly she smiles, eyes going wide with surprise. _I love you, too_ , she answers with a hint of amusement. For a moment, all they can do is stare at each other, but then Diggle clears his throat.

Felicity takes a deep breath in preparation. "Oliver and I…" She trails off. "We're a thing. Together, I mean. We're partners—in very not-platonic circumstances." She flounders with her right hand. "We're romantic partners."

There's a long pause before Diggle finally answers, "I can't argue with these results. If either one of you hurts the other, you'll answer to me." Oliver smiles to himself, despite the Marshal's words. It's the sentiment behind them. "In the meantime, just let me know when you want to file for joint quarters."

Neither of them answer, instead allowing the techs to disconnect them. They exit the cockpit and Oliver takes Felicity's hand as they walk through the upper level of the hangar. "We did the impossible today," she remarks to him, slipping off her gloves to reveal the pink nail polish underneath. She takes his hand again immediately, and he kisses her temple. "Still want to Drift with me, Mr. Queen?"

In a promise, he answers, "I'd go into the Breach with you any day, Miss Smoak."

* * *

 **Notes:**

 _Playlist:_  
 _"Strange Love" - Halsey_  
 _"Beautiful Times" - Owl City feat. Lindsey Stirling_  
 _"Heaven in this Hell" - Orianthi_  
 _"In the End" - Black Veil Brides_  
 _"Famous Last Words" - My Chemical Romance_  
 _"Centuries" - Fall Out Boy_

 _My regulars—the crazy people who read anything and everything I write (YOU GUYS ROCK)—will probably be wondering when and what I'll be posting next. The truth is... I don't know. Some friends and I are doing a Halloween fic exchange thing. I have something going there and depending on the speed I finish it, my next post might be around Halloween. If I have something between now and then, it'll be next Friday, barring any other internet issues._


End file.
